


From Where I Stand

by Papaisse



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Air Force, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Mild Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Wartime Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 146,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papaisse/pseuds/Papaisse
Summary: Freya was determined, she would join the war effort, but little did she know that her life would never be the same because of a pair of eyes she met by accident.It's a story of love and wait. Waiting for the right person, for the right moment. Loving despite the distance and the hardships. Waiting for the end of the war to finally be able to love fully.
Relationships: Collins & Farrier (Dunkirk), Collins (Dunkirk)/Original Female Character(s), Farrier (Dunkirk) & Original Female Character(s), Farrier (Dunkirk)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. For my country

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is the first story I've ever written in my entire life and I hope you'll like it. I've already published it on another platform, but I thought it could be nice to share it here as well.
> 
> Please note that English is not my first language. I'm just a French girl trying to write as good as she can in her second language, thus I apologise for the grammar mistakes you may encounter, the weirdly built sentences and the repetitive vocabulary maybe. I try my best, and hope it won't spoil your reading experience. Thank you for your indulgence.

"Freya Wright?"

"There!" I replied.

My instructor was calling the names of the new WAAF recruits of which I was. I had just arrived at the Duxford air base that morning, after I had left my native London to do what I thought was my duty. My country was at war to free Europe from Hitler's barbarism, and I did not want to stay helpless. I was determined to participate in the war effort, follow into my father's footsteps, so when I had seen those posters plastered everywhere in the streets, I had not hesitated. Not even for a second. Women also had a role to play, women like me, desperate to be of some use instead of staying at home. I wanted to do something and not be a mere spectator of the history unfolding before my eyes, but even if that decision came as an evidence, it proved very difficult to let my father all alone in the capital. Luckily, Duxford was not that far from London, and I would be able to return home to meet him during my leave.

"Follow me ladies, I will lead you to your dormitories," our instructor informed us, bringing me back to my new reality.

We all went behind her in the cold corridors of the buildings that formed the air base, passing men and women in uniforms, of all ages and professions. None paid attention to us as they were now used to seeing new faces every week. Intrigued by my new surroundings, I tried to note in my head everything I was observing, building a mental map of the site in order to find my way through this maze when nobody would lead me. A few minutes later, I discovered what would be my bedroom for an indefinite period, or should I say our room for I would have to share it with other girls. The place was plain, with white walls and a single window placed so high we could not see something other than the sky. I did not think too much about it, I knew I would not spend much time in there anyway. The furniture was also rudimentary. There were four elementary beds and two wardrobes, and each bed had a chair on its right, for whatever purpose. Too absorbed in my thoughts, I did not get to choose where I would settle, and I started unpacking my belongings on the last bed available. I collected my clothes and put them in one of the wardrobes that I had to share with one of my roommates.

I was finding a place for my precious books when a voice interrupted me: "Hi, I'm Eden! And you are?"

A beautiful blonde had just sat next to me and was smiling in my direction. She immediately appeared as a sweet girl.

"I'm Freya," I said, smiling back.

"Where are you from?" she asked?

"London, and you?" 

"I'm from a small village, not that far from here. Boring, I know," she made a funny face. "Anyway, I'm so excited to be here! I'll finally be useful! In my village, we feel very far from what's happening but we know the war is there. I felt helpless. My neighbour left for the front several weeks ago and I had to stay there, doing nothing. And then I saw a poster about the army needing women and I told myself, 'Go Eden, nothing keeps you from doing it'. So, I volunteered."

I laughed lightly when she finally stopped talking, impressed by her delivery, and also because her story sounded a lot like mine.

"I also decided to volunteer because of that," I shared my surprise with her. "My fiancé doesn't understand my choice but I had to do something for my country."

"Aw, you have a fiancé?" she asked enthusiastically. "What's his name?"

"Lewis," I said as I blushed.

"And he hasn't been enlisted?"

"No, he has been exempted because of his heart."

"Oh... At least, you're lucky to have him with you. It's a good thing. I have seen so many girls with their heart broken when hearing that their fiancé was killed. I hope I will never feel such pain. Well, I'm single for now so it will probably never happen," she joked.

"You look so young! You'll find love don't worry. How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Me too!" I exclaimed as I took her hands in mine, driven by the joy to have found a potential friend in such a life-changing period. "People said that I was too young to volunteer but some of our soldiers are way younger than that. So why not me?"

We were cut off by our other roommates who invited us to go to the refectory. I took advantage of that break to get to know my new co-workers who all seemed very nice. They were girls like me, bold and spirited, ready to risk it all but unwilling to remain passive. We could not wait to start our work within the army and discover to which post we would be assigned. We were in a good mood despite the context in which we met. But we were young and carefree, and all we thought about were the new friendships we were forging and the role we would play in this war.

Once done with our meal, we left to meet our instructor in her office. We were ten new recruits to join the Women's Auxiliary Air Force in this particular air base, ten new elements hired to help the machine of war go on. Thanks to the studies that my father had allowed me to do, I had been assigned to a rather important post within the intelligence service. I was teamed with my new friend Eden and really happy about it.

As soon as we were given our position, we were sent to our office to be introduced to our colleagues and because there was no time to waste, we spent the rest of the day getting used to our new responsibilities. We were told the tasks we would have to do, shown the material we would have to use; We listened, observed, learned and tried. Everything was so interesting and thrilling. It was serious business, finally. People were counting on me, and I was determined to do my best to help my homeland win the war.

When the clock rang six o'clock, we were finally allowed to leave for the refectory to have dinner. Eden and I headed happily towards the main building despite feeling tired and swamped because of the amount of information we had to retain. Yet, I felt accomplished and nothing could change that feeling of fulfilment.

The corridors were buzzing with people heading the same way, all the different units gathering to satisfy their hunger. I was following Eden who had grabbed my hand and was scampering ahead, finding her way through the building with ease, as if she had been there for more than just a day. As we turned left, we bumped into two people blocking the way, the only ones heading against the flow.

"Easy girls! There's plenty of food for everybody!"

I looked up to see who had pronounced that sentence to be met by the blue eyes of a tall blond-haired man, and as he held my gaze, his expression somewhere between amusement and confusion, I forgot to breathe for a moment. He gave me a charming smile before stepping aside to let us go, his friend following his example.

"Sorry, we didn't see you" I hurried to apologise, looking at my feet. I knew I was blushing and I didn't want them to see how embarrassed I was. Eden apologised again and we left as the two young men kept watching us. As much as I wanted to, I did not turn around for I could feel their gaze burning my back.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I was trying to get rid of the feeling of vulnerability that had seized me when she had stared at me. I had felt naked under her eyes, as if she could see through me, understand that the confidence I was showing was just pretence. Yet, even though the events did not call for such reaction, she had appeared mortified, and as quickly as they had shown up, her and her friend had run away.

"Hey, you're listening?" James nudged me to get my attention.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was wondering if you had ever seen them before," he asked, looking back at the two girls already at the other end of the corridor.

"No. They must be new," I assumed but tried not to make too big a deal of what had happened.

"Maybe we should get to know them," he said with a clear ulterior motive.

"The same way you want to know every girl working here?" I bantered with him as I turned to walk away.

"I just know you can feel lonely when you arrive in a place you don't know," he laughed as he followed me, knowing well I would not believe his drivel. "Mate, you're not very good with girls, I get it, but take advantage of the uniform you're wearing. They all love a man in uniform."

"Fuck you," I laughed, used to him having a dig at me.

"I'm sure the blond one has already succumbed to your charm."

"What? Not at all! Where did you get that?" I strongly disagreed. "She's not even my type!"

"Because you've a type?"

"Not really," I admitted. "I don't know. She seemed more your type. I personally preferred the shy one."

"The shy ones aren't always so shy," he proudly shared his knowledge. "I know it for a fact."

"Whatever," I brushed his remark away. "Chances that we see them again are low anyway."

"C'mon! A soldier doesn't give up! Don't make me lose mate," he did not want to let go.

"Lose what?"

"The other guys are convinced you play in the other league, if you see what I mean. I bet 10 quid that they were mistaken, so don't make me lose my money, because I know I'm right."

"Do you think I care about your stupid bet?" I laughed.

"I mean, you never talk of a girlfriend or seem to be interested in getting one, so their question is kind of legit," he chaffed me. "Prove them wrong and help me make easy money for the both of us!"

"I don't need to prove them wrong. And for your information, since you seem to worry about me getting laid, I do get girls. Just not as many as you. I don't talk about it every hour of the day, that's all."

"Do you?"

"Last week if you want to know, at the dance. I was with that nurse..."

"Vera?"

"Yes. That's her. Vera."

"That's why you disappeared!" he slapped me on the shoulder to show me he was proud.

"I was busy."

"You sneaky bastard, you play your cards close to your chest! How was it?"

"It was... loud."

He burst into laughter at the word I had chosen to describe my experience.

"I get what you mean."

"C'mon! Her too?" I asked even though I should not have been surprised, knowing how successful he was with girls.

"I'm sorry mate, but everybody knows Vera has a thing for pilots," he laughed it off.

"You've fucked the whole base!" I could not believe it.

"I haven't tried men yet, but I can start with you if you want," he joked.

"Get lost!"

"If it's about the bet and the money I would lose, it's fine! I don't care!" he went on, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

"Shut up! You're not my type," I left his touch before punching him in the arm.

We stumbled across the corridor, laughing heartily at our childish jokes, only trying to release the strain we had experienced during the day. We did not look clever and our conversations were rarely profound, but we did not care. Joking around, chaffing one another was the easiest thing we could do to empty our minds from the anxiety caused by the war, so we did it gladly; maybe too gladly for we had not noticed Vera coming our way. We held back our laughter as she approached us and tried to behave like adults, but all I could think about was the discussion we had just had and the context in which her name had been mentioned.

"Evening gentlemen," she greeted us when she got close enough. "Andrew," she told my name in a sensual voice and laid a hand on my arm as she walked past me, looking straight into my eyes. I kept watching her as she made her way through the corridor, amazed by the assurance she conveyed, and when she disappeared, I turned to James, amused by the coincidence of that encounter.

"I guess one was better than the other," I made fun of him, for I knew that even if he pretended the contrary, he was hurt by the lack of interest she had shown towards him. He could have her as much as he wished, I was not interested. I preferred them shy.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


Once our food collected, we sat with our tray at the table occupied by the other recruits, still giggling about our unexpected encounter.

"They were very handsome. I hope that we'll meet them again" Eden said, half-joking.

"Who?" one of our friends asked.

"Two young men we ran into on our way here."

"Really? From which unit are they?"

"No idea. We didn't have time to ask. We ran away," Eden laughed as she recalled the scene.

"Believe me, we were too ashamed to talk," I could not erase the thought that I had probably given a bad impression to men who could be my superiors.

"They looked like pilots, with their blue uniforms and boots," Eden added.

"You managed to notice that they were wearing boots?" I asked, surprised. It was as if I had been deprived of my reason as soon as I had seen him.

"Well, girls, you're wasting no time. Already getting to know the very best of the RAF. Besides," she added with a smirk, "I know the uniform doesn't do everything, but they've a reputation to be the most attractive guys in here. Pilots are successful."

"What if they come here to eat too?" someone asked.

"I don't think so. They were going the other way," Eden explained, triggering sighs of disappointment and bringing the conversation to an end.

She was probably right about that but I could not help scanning the room hoping to catch sight of him. His blue eyes had struck me to such an extent that it made me forget Lewis for a while. I could still hear his northern accent and picture his warm smile, as if the vision of him had possessed me. But it was not right, so I quickly snapped out of it and forced myself to listen to my friends chatting. He was just a random pilot that I would probably never meet again.


	2. The One

I had just left my bedroom, ready to go to the headquarters and start working, but first, I had to find Farrier. It did not take long for me to locate him. He was leaning against the wall, making conversation to two nurses who seemed to be fascinated by his words. I had to admit that he knew how to talk to girls.

"Farrier, time to go," I announced while walking past him, not bothering to look in his direction. He followed me, laughing, his two conquests giving me a death glare. They probably hated me for cutting their moment short.

"Thanks lad! I couldn't get rid of them," he joked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna believe you," I sighed with amusement. "I know you like that."

"I confess. But you should do the same, just let go. It'll do you some good, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I know that going from one girl to another is trouble. I just need one."

"Then find one! You're spoilt for choice!"

"Haven't met her yet."

"Oh, come on! Here we go again! Still talking about _the_ girl, the one he will marry," he rolled his eyes. "Do you remember that we're war pilots? We can't wait for the right girl to show up, we need to have fun before it's too late!" he insisted.

"Well, I tried. But that's not who I am. I'm not like you," I laughed.

"I know Romeo," he said, locking his left arm around my neck to force me to bend over so he could ruffle my hair as we entered the office. It was his way to show he cared about me.

"Young men, mind your manners!" our commander called to order. We immediately stopped and came to attention, trying not to laugh, exchanging a look as I mouthed bad words to his attention, not interested in discovering what was so important for the commander to show up on that particular day.

"I want to introduce our new recruits. Miss Wright and Miss Pembley. They'll help you with flight preparation and aerial survey. Gentlemen, I want you to treat them properly. They've just arrived yesterday and need some time to take their mark."

I regained all my seriousness when my eyes came to meet those of Miss Wright and I recognized the face I had already seen in the corridor the day before. I could not quite believe she was standing in front of me again, but in a totally different context. I took advantage of the commander's monologue to admire her. She had a face one could not forget. Delicate features, high cheekbones, luscious lips and sparkling brown eyes. Her nose and cheeks were covered with freckles, little sparkles of sun on her skin. She was beautiful, even more than the first time I had been blessed by the vision of her.   
She blushed when she realised I was looking at her but she quickly ignored me, which added a lot to her charm.

I forced myself not to smile as I thought that life had some amazing ways to make you think that things happened for a reason. I did not know what the reason was yet, but I was certain that her presence on that day and our previous encounter were not a simple fluke.

I bent towards Farrier, making sure the commander was focused on something else, and whispered: "That's her."

"Who?" he asked, surprised.

"The one," I simply replied, smiling.

"About time!" he exclaimed.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


The commander gone, I walked towards Miss Wright's desk with the intention to introduce myself. I would not have made such a move in general, but James could be very influential.

"Miss Wright," I started, causing her to raise her eyes in my direction. "I'm glad to finally know the name of the young woman who bumped into me last night," I tried to appear as friendly as possible. I wanted to know if she remembered me.

"I guess it's me," she replied with a sweet smile to cover her embarrassment. "I want to apologise again for what happened. My friend and I were not very attentive..."

"No need to apologise! It was quite amusing. No harm done." I paused. "I'm Collins by the way, Andrew Collins. And my friend at the back is James Farrier."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Freya," she said, giving me that lovely smile again.

Her name seemed to fit her well, simple and easy to remember, just like the lasting impression she had left on me the day before. Freya Wright. As I pronounced her name in my head, I realised I had to come up with something to say before our conversation would turn into something awkward, anything that would allow me to hear her voice a bit more.

"So, Freya, are we going to be colleagues? Isn't it funny that among all the new recruits, you and your friend are the ones to join our team?"

"Yes, it's a strange coincidence," she said, rearranging the stuff on her desk to avoid my eyes.

"I'd rather call that destiny," I teased her. She looked up at me, blushing. She was abashed, but not in a negative way. At least, she did not seem to hate me for I could see she was trying to contain a smile. After all, I was not that bad with women contrary to what James liked to say.  
  
  
  


*****   
  
  


What were the chances that I would end up working for his squadron? That his eyes would find mine again not even twenty-four hours after our first brief encounter? He had remembered me and smiled as if he was happy to see me, and I had immediately become flustered, thrown off balance by the effect he had on me. I was nervous in his presence because there was something so attractive about him, something that forced me to look at him, even when I did not want to. He appeared so confident but not pretentious, fearless but wise, and way too young to risk his life for his country.

I tried to meet Eden's eyes and find some support but she did not interpret it the way I wanted, and the big smile she adorned when she joined me let me think she was very glad of the way things were unfolding since our arrival.

"I knew my prayers would be heard!" she whispered in my ear as everybody settled in the room.

"You didn't have to..." I let her know of my struggle.

"What? You don't like the way that pilot looks at you?"

"Not really," I lied.

"But it's cute! It's as if he had never seen a woman before," she chuckled as she gave a look in his direction.

"You're not helping!" I forced her to turn to me. "You know I'm already taken!"

"Oh, of course!" she instantly calmed down, feeling sorry for what she had said before. "Your Lewis must be a treasure for you to turn down such a handsome lad."

I remained silent and gave her a simple smile, for I had no idea what to answer. It was as if the Lord was testing me by putting someone so captivating on my way, and telling me that if I had questions about my relationship, he would help me answer them, but I did not want to find an answer I would dislike.

I was doing my best to pretend I was not interested in knowing more about him and I focused on my work. I checked on everyone but him and his friend, sending Eden to them instead, because I knew that if he asked me a question, I would not be able to utter a simple word. There was something about him that I could not describe, that made me forget how I was supposed to behave, who I was and what I wanted. I had left London in part to avoid my problems, not to create new ones by finding myself obsessed by a stranger.

I knew nothing about him, only that he was a fighter pilot and that he seemed to be liked by the other men in his squadron, and I felt like I had to know more. I knew my feelings were wrong, and yet I hoped that the few times I would look up from my desk, he would be looking at me, and just as I desired that, I was scared I would be right, for I had the conviction that if this man entered my life for good, it would not be just to play a minor part.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Farrier and I spent our morning studying maps on the table at the centre of the room. I couldn't help looking at Freya, hoping she would do the same. The few times our eyes met, she would quickly look away and act like nothing happened, and it made me smile every time. I just could not concentrate with her in the same room. I had to, but my eyes were irresistibly attracted to her and every little gesture of her became fascinating. Way more fascinating than planning a war.

At noon, people quickly left the room for lunch. James and I started to put the maps away when Freya came towards us.

"Go out to eat guys, I'm taking care of that," she said with her sweet tone. But I didn't want to leave the room. I saw the opportunity to spend some time alone with her and get to know her.

"There's no way you do that all by yourself, I'll help you. So that both of us can have lunch," I answered before looking at my friend who immediately understood my plan.

"Thank you," he said to her. "Andrew, I save you a seat," he winked at me and left the room.

Freya busied herself rolling the maps and so did I. She did not seem to mind me staying with her, but I could feel she was intimidated, just like me. None of us dared to talk. We would awkwardly reach for the same document, exchange apologising looks and nervous laughs. I felt like a teenager, too shy to start a conversation, and yet, we were alone, nobody could interrupt us. None of us had uttered a word when I took the maps and put them in the cupboard. Freya was back at her desk and I joined her to see what she was doing, determined to finally say something.

"Not decided to eat yet?" I asked.

"I need to clean my desk first. But you can go! Thanks for your help, that was nice of you." She gave me that radiant smile again.

"I can wait, I'm not that hungry anyway," I lied.

"As you like. I'll be quick."

I went on her side of the desk and leant against it.

"Where are you from?" I asked to start a conversation.

"London. Born and raised. What about you?"

"London too."

"Your accent says otherwise," she kindly reminded me that I could not hide anything from her.

"Yes, well. I grew up in Scotland, hence the accent."

"Then, why did you end up in London?"

"My father has a bookshop there. He wanted to try his luck in the big city."

"Oh really? I love books. You're lucky. You must have read a lot during your childhood."

I laughed seeing how enthusiast she was about that detail of my life.

"To be honest, it was mostly books about planes. Surprisingly," I managed to make her laugh, and the tinkling sound of it was infectious. She had everything to make me fall for her.

"That's why you decided to be a pilot?"

"In part. My grandfather was a pilot during the last war. He's always been my hero."

"My father was a pilot too. That's why I can bring some help here. He taught me a lot."

"I'll have to thank him then," I said, gazing into her eyes. She did not shy away this time, and I felt like she was trying to read me, find something about me that words could not tell her. Time seemed to stop for a bit as none of us wanted to break that moment.

But my rumbling stomach put an end to it.

"Sorry" I hurried to say while Freya was bursting into laughter.

"You're not that hungry, really?" she quoted, teasing me. "Your stomach doesn't know how to lie."

"Betrayed by my own body," I joked.

"Come on, let's eat," she said, getting up and walking towards the door.

I gladly followed her, and we resumed our conversation on our way to the refectory.


	3. Is there more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone is reading this story, but if you do (thank you) and happen to like it, let me know. It would be lovely to hear from you and have feedback.

I slowed down and finally came to a stop after I had completed the final lap of the ten miles we had been ordered to run first thing in the morning. It had become harder when the sun had appeared and the temperatures risen up, but I had managed to keep my lead and finish first. As I resumed walking to try to catch my breath and prevent my muscles from aching too much later, I was joined by James who congratulated me by slapping me on the back.

"I've noticed that you're faster when she's around," he referred to her, causing me to look at the group of girls waiting by the infirmary, enjoying the last minutes of free time they had before going to work, watching us run around the base while they bathed in the sunshine.

"I'm always faster than you," I pretended I did not get what he was implying.

"Well, you're lighter."

"And you're shorter, and yet you're slow as fuck."

"That's because I'm very muscular. Muscles are heavy."

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard," I laughed heartily. "I'm faster than you, let me at least get that. You're better in the air, I'm better on the ground."

"Right. We'll keep working hard to get you on my level, so you can continue to impress her with your running skills."

He was right. Knowing she was outside and maybe looking at me had probably influenced my performance. I had given my best, thinking it could somehow impress her. It had made the whole thing less boring and the miles add up faster. She probably did not care at all, and could not see anything attractive about the sweaty mess I had turned into, but I had given all I had.

"Did you get to talk to her?" James asked, not willing to find another subject to talk about.

"Very quickly."

"How do you manage to find something interesting to say every time?"

"I don't know. It comes naturally."

"It doesn't for me."

"You just have to care about what she says and ask questions; if you genuinely want to know the person. If it's just for a night, then just pretend. You've been doing well so far!" I teased him, knowing that making conversation was not really his cup of tea, unless he knew the person very well.

"Do you really think she's the one?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I hope she's. I'm simply getting to know her at the moment."

"But why her? Why didn't you try to get to know another girl earlier?"

"Because I had a feeling, the first time I saw her. I know you'll think it's ridiculous, but I can't find the words to explain."

"I don't get it, but I believe you..."

"Maybe one day, you'll get what I mean."

"So you really like her?"

"There's nothing I dislike about her so far."

"She does seem to be a fine lass, and I don't see what she could dislike about you either."

"I've got an idea of what she could dislike."

"Oh yeah, what?"

"My friend."

"Ok, good one Collins," he gave me a fake laugh. "I hope you wouldn't date a girl who doesn't like your best friend. Let her know I'm part of the deal."  
  
  


*****  
  
  


Observing men was my friends' favourite occupation during our free time, as if fantasizing about them was the only thing they could do. I remained quiet as I listened to their comments about who would make a good husband, whom they would gladly marry and whom they disliked the most. It turned out James had quite a reputation, and most of the girls wanted to impress him while he was known not to care. Andrew on the contrary was seen as very enigmatic. He was always described as nice, good-hearted and always willing to help, which I had no doubt he was, but nobody had managed to win his heart or interest him for more than a couple of days.

All I knew was that he was good at making conversation and that he had immediately managed to make me feel at ease the first time we had talked, something not so easy to achieve as I was very reserved.

When the group of men walked past us to join their shack, all sweaty and covered with dust, most of the girls looked away and pretended they were not here for them, but they could not fool anyone.

"Ladies," one of the soldiers greeted us, "thank you for your support."

They smiled back but quickly turned their attention on the two pilots whose names had been pronounced the most, hoping to be noticed by them, but James walked straight into the building followed by Andrew who, just before stepping inside, looked at me from the corner of his eyes, enough for the other girls to notice and turn to me.

"What was that?" one asked.

"What?"

"That look he gave you!"

"Who said he looked at me?"

"Stop it, it was obvious it was aimed at you!"

"And then? Who cares?"

"He likes you!"

"No, he doesn't," I denied their implication, which sounded so silly to me.

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing! I did nothing and he doesn't like me!"

"I'm sure he likes you," they kept on teasing me, all joining their forces to try to get more information from me, even though I had nothing to say; all but one of the nurses who instead of having fun with the rest of them, was looking at me defiantly as if I would steal Andrew from her.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


The race did not stop after the ten miles. We had to be quick if we wanted to have hot water, and so, as soon as I entered the bathroom, I hurried to take off my sport outfit and stepped under the shower. I let my muscles relax under the warmth of the water and tried to empty my head of all the thoughts that usually overwhelmed me, but the hubbub caused by my peers made that impossible. James, who had decided he preferred having fun before getting clean, was wrestling with another pilot in an attempt to prove who was the strongest. He knocked him down in no time and joined me, laughing as always.

"Remember when it was you lying on the floor?" he could not help reminding me of that time he had challenged me only days after I had arrived in Duxford.

"I resisted for longer," I pointed out.

"We should have another go, see if you've improved now that you're more ripped."

"I don't want to humiliate you," I joked, fully aware that I still did not stand a chance.

I could hear him laugh as I closed my eyes to let the water flow on my face, cutting myself from the world surrounding me. I thought about home, and how much I missed it, and then about her. It made me feel relaxed, but it was until I heard William, who was once again trying to be the centre of attention, talk about girls, his only interest.

"That Miss Wright is gorgeous! Have you guys seen that body?"

I would usually ignore him, but the mention of Freya's name had caught my attention and I was hoping he would find someone else to talk about.

"Don't wank too much tonight thinking about her," someone made a joke.

"I'm more ambitious mate. I'll get her into my bed."

"Good luck with that!"

Farrier, who had noticed my change of attitude, was listening too, and he gave me a look that told me not to pay attention to what he was saying, but I could not focus on something else.

"It will be easy as pie," he went on. "I bet she's a virgin. She's playing shy and pretending to be here to work, when it's obvious she's asking for it. I'll make a woman out of her."

I lost patience and joined the conversation, to James's dismay.

"What makes you think she wants to have anything to do with you? Let her do her work in peace," I confronted him, causing everyone to go quiet around us.

William laughed, thinking I was joking with him.

"We both know they're not here to work. They want to have fun and I'm willing to give it to them."

"Why don't you stop degrading women by only thinking with your dick?" I forced myself to remain calm, not bothering to look at him.

I stopped the water and stepped out of the shower to grab my towel and wrap it around my waist before I turned to face him.

"What's your problem Collins? Why do you care what I do with my cock? You want to suck it?"

"You sound so desperate. I bet nobody has ever touched it but you."

"Why do you suddenly care, kiddo? You've got a crush on the Wright girl?"

"I'm just tired of hearing you pretend you can get any girl you want when everybody here knows they don't care about you."

"Then don't listen," he thought he was clever.

"I usually don't, unless the girl you're talking about is my friend and I won't let you disrespect her," I let him know, sounding as detached as possible.

"So that's it," he gave a scornful laugh. "You caught feelings for a chick and now you think she's yours?"

"Andrew, drop it. We all know Will is all talk and no action," Farrier intervened and tried to make a joke to ease the atmosphere, but nothing could stop what I had started.

"Look, Sir Farrier coming to the rescue. Let your darling Collins speak for himself."

"I'm just trying to calm things down here. Let's talk like adults. If you want to have fun, why don't you find a girl who actually wants the same thing, and just let people with good intentions try their luck with nice girls."

Men fighting over the same girl was not something rare, especially in a military context. Weirdly enough, this kind of pitched battles often happened in the communal showers, as if when naked, men went back to their primal instinct. I was not the one to engage into those quarrels and would usually just watch and laugh, but this time I was the main actor.

"Why would I let him have her, just because he thinks life is a fucking romance?" he said with anger in his voice.

"Because you've no chance," I ruined every efforts Farrier had made to settle our disagreement.

"Why would she prefer a kid when she can have a real man?" William turned to me and tried to hurt my feelings with his words, but I could not care less.

"Wait until she realises what's between your legs and we'll see who she thinks the kid is!" I snapped back, causing the rest of the boys to laugh at William, which only made him angrier.

"At least I know how to use it! And I'll fuck her so hard, you'll hear her scream my name and beg for more."

I was doing my best to control the infuriation building up inside of me, because I did not want to come to blows. I had tried to make him understand with words, but William was an uncouth degenerate who refused to listen to anyone who contradicted him.

"If you'd put that much effort into your training, maybe you wouldn't be such a fucking awful pilot!" I retorted, perfectly aware that it could be the final straw.

"I'll fucking end you Collins!" he threatened me as he approached.

"Wow," James stepped in to prevent a real fight from happening, aware that William had heard enough. "Let's stop there, guys. No lass is worth fighting with your brother in arms."

"He's no brother of mine," I spat when Farrier pushed me back, trying to put me at a safe distance. I wanted to have nothing to do with this man.

"Beware next time we fly together," he went on as he gave me a death stare. "The bullets could come from behind."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" I laughed. "We all know you never reach your target."

But nobody was laughing anymore. Calling each other names was not a big deal and would be forgotten the next day, but threatening your teammate that you would kill him if you had the opportunity was way beyond the limit of acceptable behaviours.

"I'll prove you wrong when I put a bullet between your eyes," he growled.

Farrier had no time to react that my fist was already colliding with the unsightly face of my rival, sending him to the floor, his body hitting the cold tiles and the blood from his eyebrow arch already colouring the water disappearing into the drain.

"Fuck," I groaned as I experienced a searing pain in my hand and tried to shake it away. I was not the one to come to blows, but he deserved that one.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I had been running all day long from one building to the other, to deliver an important message to the commandant, or bring a classified file to a specific unit. I felt like I had not stopped one second. As soon as I had come back from my last mission, I had been sent on another one, another part of the base, as if to make sure I would have my fair share of walking today.

I had politely obliged and was back to making my way through the bleak corridors, heading to the infirmary to collect the required files. I was not really what I had been dreaming of doing when I had volunteered, and I felt more useful when I was helping to plan missions, working on maps with the rest of the team, but I would do what I was asked to, and I hoped that the next day would be more interesting.

I confidently stepped into the nurses' office, but instantly froze when I noticed his tall frame in the room, forgetting to announce my presence. He could not see me from where he was standing, but the unfriendly girl from earlier had noticed me and she gave me a bold look before focusing back on the hand she was healing.

"Here you go, nothing broken. Just be more careful, and try not to punch anyone," she told him as she fastened the bandage around his hand.

"I'll behave, I promise," he smiled warmly at her. I knew this smile, it was part of his charm, and it was obvious that because of it, that girl was totally infatuated with him. It was obvious in the way she looked at him and would not let go of his hand.

"You know you don't have to get into trouble to see me. You just have to ask," she clearly flirted with him.

Andrew laughed, which did not seem to be the reaction she was expecting, but she forced herself to look contented.

"I know Vera. But as much as I enjoy your company, I wouldn't injure my hands on purpose. I need them to be a good pilot."

She simpered and said nothing. She might have been a bit hurt by his answer, but she did not let it show.

"Freya! What brings you here?" one of my friends had finally noticed me and forced me to switch my attention to her instead of the flirting couple I had been observing for way too long.

"I believe you have some files for me," I informed her.

When he had noticed I was there, Andrew had immediately withdrawn his hand from Vera's, and had started behaving as if he had been ashamed to be caught in the act, while I did not care much about what I had seen or heard. I had assumed a man like him, with his success, would not turn down every girl.

"Of course, let me get that for you," the other nurse said as she walked away, leaving me alone in this situation, which, for no reason, felt really awkward.

I nervously played with my necklace as I looked at the ceiling, hoping she would be quick to come back. It was without counting on Vera who was determined to show me Andrew was her territory, when I was not even trying to steal him from her.

"I should go back to my duty," Andrew first announced.

"Sure. I'll see you soon," she let him go, but was apparently not satisfied enough for he had not even turned around that she was already calling him back. "Wait, I forgot. There is a dance soon, I'd love to go with you. You know, just like last time."

Her offer took Andrew by surprise, and no word came out of his mouth. He briefly looked in my direction, as if my presence was what prevented him from saying something. Thankfully, my friend was back with the files just in time and I left before I had to hear his answer, walking as quickly as possible to get away from them. And as I kept walking, holding the papers close to my chest, I noticed a lump had formed in my throat. I did not know the reason. Maybe because of what I had witnessed just before, but it would make me so silly. Andrew was a colleague, just a colleague, nothing more. I blamed the other girls for having put stupid ideas in my head, and made me believe that he saw me as someone special. He did not. He was obviously attracted to Vera, and I could now get why she was looking at me that way. They had a past, they liked each other, and there was no way I would interfere. I did not want to. I had a boyfriend who was waiting for me, who loved me and who was the best person for me. I would not let my friends make me think I could find better and destroy what I had for someone who did not care. I would tell them they were wrong and hopefully, they would let me work in peace.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


"You look clever with your injured hand. Next time, let me hit him for you," Farrier made fun of me.

"You won't always be there. I better learn to do it myself."

"Who would have thought the angelic Andy would lose his temper? I thought you were a pacifist!"

"Pacifist what? I'm fighting a war!"

"Fighting a war, and fighting for a girl," he sighed.

"You know he deserved it!" I defended myself.

"You should have let him say his shit. You know she would pick you over him. That man is a pig."

"She won't choose me at all..." I let him know.

"What do you mean?"

"She showed up when I was with Vera."

"What? What were you doing with her?" he made me feel like I was stupid.

"Nothing! I went to the infirmary for my hand, and Vera was being way too demonstrative."

"As always..."

"And I'm sure Freya now thinks there is something between us," I probably sounded despaired.

"When, of course, there isn't..." he implied the opposite.

"Shut up! It's not funny! I like her!" I was not in the mood to listen to his jokes.

"Then tell her, it's that easy."

"I tried to show her that I wasn't interested, but she left before I could decline Vera's invitation."

"Cheer up mate!" he tried to make me feel better, noticing I was really taking things seriously. "You'll have plenty of opportunities to show her she's 'the one'. And if it's not her, it will be another."


	4. Ephemeral

I was waiting for Eden to join me after breakfast, ready to tackle another day of work. I had no idea what a normal week was anymore, for we had so much work to do we did not count the hours spent in the office. With such intense days, a good night of sleep was not enough to recover, but the feeling of playing a key role would give us the strength to wake up every morning and do what was expected from us. For some more than others, for Eden had skipped our usual breakfast to sleep a little longer, and even if she should have already joined me, she was nowhere to be seen, and I started to think she had forgotten about me.

"It's unusual to see you alone," Andrew had appeared at my side, visibly as tired as I was, the smile on his face shier than ordinary.

"My roommate had troubled getting out of bed," I explained.

"Can't blame her. It's tough. How do you keep up?"

"Fine so far."

He had stuffed his hands in his pockets and appeared surprisingly reserved, not looking at me, as if this time, he was the one to be intimidated. I had noticed he was different when James was not with him; calmer, more serious, more withdrawn, as if for once, he did not have something to prove, for fear his friend's buoyant personality would erase him from the picture.

"You're not homesick?"

"Not really. I love what I'm doing here, and I have good company," I teased him the way he would tease me. He was the one trying to hide his embarrassment, which felt like a small victory. "I miss my Dad though."

"I'm sure he misses you too."

"But he won't say it. You men don't know how to express your feelings," I joked.

"We're trying," he expressed sincerely.

"By fighting?" I referred to the reason he had been at the infirmary a few days before.

"Here we go," he laughed as he had expected a remark. "I hope you don't think I fight all the time. I don't, unless I've a good reason."

"What was the reason?" I inquired.

"Just some disagreement. Over politics," he shrugged. "William and I don't really get on well anyway."

"I saw that," I chuckled. "That's some bruise you gave him."

"I didn't fail to hurt myself though."

"Is it better now?"

"Yeah, it's all good. It wasn't a big deal."

"Because you got the best girl to treat you," I could not help reminding him of what I had witnessed.

He looked away, as if searching for the right words to tell me, before turning back to me with all his confidence.

"I would've come to you, but you're not a nurse as far as I know."

I regretted joking about that, because he had turned it against me, and I could feel that I was turning red under his eyes. I hoped he did not think I was jealous, for it was the last impression I wanted to convey. I just wanted to banter with him the way he would with me, but it seemed I was not good at it.

"I'll see you later," he announced when he saw James in the distance. He smiled at me before walking away, putting my uneasiness to an end.

James who had hurried to catch up with him, stopped when he reached me, and he bent towards me to comment on what he had interrupted.

"You should stop blushing every time he talks to you, he'll start thinking you like him," he whispered in my ear.

And with that remark, he left me alone and mortified. He had just confirmed I had sent the wrong signals.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Weeks had passed since my arrival in Duxford and I had gotten no letter from Lewis. I was pretending it did not hurt me, but his silence made me feel unloved and I was scared he had somehow replaced me. He was probably bitter for the way I had left and refused to stay for him. He was trying to make me understand that the state of our relationship was the result of my behaviour, and I had to fix it. I really wanted to make things better for us, but I hoped he would behave like an adult instead of ignoring me.

If he was not willing to make the first move, then I would do it for us. I was looking at the blank sheet of paper in front of my eyes, trying to find the words to say to him, but nothing would come, my heart would not speak. I realised I had nothing to say to him. I was where I belonged, with people like me, who cared about their country, and I had never felt better before. I did not miss him; I was well surrounded. Eden and I had become great friends, and Andrew and James had quickly found their place in the group. Everything felt natural with them, simple and obvious, and all the time spent together reminded me that what I had considered as the perfect relationship was in fact spoilt. Yet, I loved him, my first love, and I felt guilty to behave as if he was not part of my life anymore.

I loved him, but lately things had changed. He was not the man I had fallen for. He was not that courageous, romantic man anymore. He had turned into a coward and complete stranger. He had been exempted from service but I suspected him of having paid for that, knowing the influence his father had. Something was odd, but I would end up thinking that I was wrong, blaming myself instead of him. It was the main reason that had led me to volunteer, to get away from him for a while and show him that if he was not willing to fight for his country, I would. But nothing had changed.

Tired, I put my pen aside and gave up on writing the letter. He should be the one to write to me. I just wanted one letter, one proof that our relationship was worth fighting for, that it was as important to him that it was to me. I still had hope and I would wait for him to send me a sign that he still loved me.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I had left just after dinner to look for her. I was used to spending time with her almost every day now, in the morning, during a break or in the evening, sometimes with Eden or Farrier, sometimes alone. My time with her was sacred, because she allowed me to loosen up after a long day, to get a second wind when I was tired; she was like a reward for all the efforts I had to do, my motivation to keep fighting. I needed her like I needed my daily amount of sleep or my black tea in the morning. She was part of my life, and if I was not the one to look for her, she would be looking for me.

I had noticed a change after that time she had seen me with Vera. She had gotten rid of her apparent shyness and proved to be biting, almost ignoring me when I tried to be nice, giving me the cold shoulder as if she was jealous, trying to make me pay for something I had not done. It had not lasted though, for she was not the type of girl to sulk; her spontaneous side would always win. She had greeted me with her lovely smiles again, observed me with her dreamy eyes and responded to my stupid jokes like I expected her to do, and as I stepped outside looking for her, I could already imagine the way she would welcome me.

With spring, days had grown longer and warmer, and I had noticed she would take advantage of that new season to enjoy the fresh air of the early night. She was there, sitting at the edge of an empty trailer, her eyes lost in the contemplation of the sky above her head, her legs swinging above the ground. She smiled warmly at me when I approached her, making me feel special again, even though I was not.

"I knew you would find me," she leant forward, shifting her weight on her arms as she crossed her legs.

"Did you miss me?" I pretended to joke, when all I wanted was to be serious.

"More than I want to admit," she answered with the same tone.

I sat next to her and I observed her rested face as she looked in the distance. She seemed happy. I was light-hearted. The sky was getting darker, stars piercing out, here and there, crickets filling the air with their sweet sound. It smelt like grass and rain and her perfume.

We spoke for some time, about work, the war and life at home. It felt like we had no secrets for each other. I had none for her, everything she wanted to know I told her. I was not ashamed of who I was with her, I had nothing to hide. I did not have to pretend I was fine when I was not, to know what I was doing and for what reasons when I felt like a pawn moved on a board. She knew how it was.

"Tell me about Scotland," she changed topic. "What is it like?"

"It's my favourite place in the world. Besides being here with you," I confessed.

"Stop saying things like that just to make me blush!"

"But it's true!" I argued, even though I knew she would not believe me. She seemed to think I was making fun of her, when all I was trying to do was proving her of the way I felt, show her that she could ask anything from me. I would do it. But I had joked too many times about it, too afraid to express it clearly, too scared to lose what we had in case she did not share my feelings. I had messed it up.

"Is it just you or are all Scots that nice?" she asked.

"All the Scots I know are the best. Not to be too pretentious, but we know how to make you feel welcome."

"I can see that."

"English people are fine, don't worry," I teased her.

"I hope so!" she laughed. "Tell me about your place."

Her being so interested in my homeland made me even prouder.

"I grew up in a small town, in the South East. I remember spending my days outside with my friends, playing in the fields. There is nothing like Scotland. Like, what I felt while living there, I'll never find it anywhere else. It makes you feel alive being surrounded by such landscapes."

I was being emotional and she noticed.

"Do you miss it?" she asked.

"I do. But I know I'll be back some day," I gazed at her briefly. "You could come with me and I'd show you around."

"I'd love to," she smiled in a way that seemed sincere. I hoped she meant it.

I remained silent for a moment, looking at the sky without finding anything interesting to say after that.

"There is something comforting about the moon," she started. "Wherever you are in the world, it will always be there. Always shedding light on our life and witnessing the secrets of the night. It was with you in Scotland, now it's there in Duxford. It keeps an eye on us. I love it."

"I won't be able to look at the moon without thinking about you now," I decided to be bold for once.

"Then, it will connect us wherever we are," she said, before planting a kiss on my cheek, taking me by surprise.

She stood up and turned to me.

"Good night Andrew."

"Good night, love," I replied as she walked away, my eyes following her until she disappeared into the building. She had cast a spell on me and I would not try to fight it.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Her words that night, the kiss she had given me, I could not forget them. Was it me trying to find a meaning in her actions when there was none, or did she really give me a bit of what I'd been dreaming of? There was something, I was sure of it. It was not just a friendly display of affection or a polite response, it was her way of showing she cared about me, maybe as much as I cared about her. What a blessing it was to see her every day and be a part of her life. She was the nicest, purest girl I had ever met. So shy and quiet sometimes, yet so attractive without even trying to be, for I could not erase her from my mind.

I proved unable to sleep, replaying the day in my head, not knowing how to interpret my feelings towards her. Tired, I turned on my stomach and sighed as I buried my head in the pillow, hoping she would let me get some rest.

"Still thinking about her, aren't you?" James asked.

"She's all I can think about," I mumbled.

"Look at him, already in love with a girl he met a few days ago."

"It wasn't planned..."

"As long as you remember how to fight when we're up in the air, that's fine by me."

I laughed at his remark, and I did not feel the need to reassure him for he knew I would never let him down.

"Did you know that her father was a pilot too?" I asked him. I needed to talk about her with someone and let it all out, hoping he would help me find the answers I was looking for and feel less lost.

"Nah."

"She told me that he was serving during the last war and he got injured. That's when he met her mother. She was a nurse and they fell in love. After the war, he abandoned everything to be with her. And then they got Freya."

"That's a beautiful story."

"Yeah, it is..." I replied thoughtfully.

"Are they still together? I heard her talk about her father living in London but what about her mother?"

"She died giving birth to her." I paused. "That's the sad part of the story. It's always been her father and her."

"He must be overprotective then. Don't know if he will let you date his daughter," he said, messing around.

"Nah. I'm a good guy, and a pilot, just like him. I'll treat her well, he'll know that."

"Well, I know that," he told me in all seriousness.

"Is that a compliment?" I teased him, not used to him behaving like that with me.

"Let's sleep now," he ignored me. "Enough talking about love."

I did not argue, I needed to rest anyway. I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling as I remembered her exact words one last time. I really was in love with her, wasn't I?  
  
  


*****   
  
  


On that day, pilots were out of the office and I was quite disappointed. When Andrew and James were there, it was easier to work. I enjoyed looking at them, absorbed in their complex calculations, for they had their heart set on fighting for their country and were extremely serious when at work. But today, like most days, they had to train, and the office had not seen one single Spitfire pilot. The morning had seemed to last forever, and when time had come for Eden and me to take our break, we had simply sat at her desk to enjoy a cup of tea and chat.

"It's crazy how everything is so quiet when they're away," she declared. And I knew too well who she was talking about.

"That's true. It's different," I replied as I slumped down on my chair and extended my arms across the desk to rest my head for a moment.

"It's boring! I prefer when I have good-looking men to distract me."

"Well, we volunteered to work, not to feast our eyes on soldiers," I reminded her.

"What, because we can't combine pleasure with work?" she joked.

"It won't be for today," I sighed, thinking how long the rest of the day would be.

"Not for work, but James told me they would join us at the end of the day and that we could take a walk in the countryside all together."

"That would be great!" I said enthusiastically as I sat up straight. "I can't stand spending all my days locked in that office, I need some fresh air."

"I feel you," she sighed before suddenly changing the subject. "Have you made up your mind about writing to Lewis?" she asked.

"No... not yet," I said, thoughtfully staring at my cup of tea.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked as if she was upset.

"I don't know."

"You can't keep on pretending everything is fine Freya. Either you still love him and then you give him some news, or you don't love him anymore and then you have to break up with him. Or it will hurt the both of you."

"I've tried, but I haven't found the right time to do it yet," I lied, when the truth was that I had no idea what to tell him.

"That's nonsense! You know as well as I do that you're lying to yourself."

"Eden, I..."

"No Freya, enough is enough!" she scolded me to my greatest surprise. "I don't know Lewis, but I can say that there is no love between you anymore. His girlfriend is volunteering and he doesn't even care to write her a letter? You know that it's not only you, you're both giving up on that relationship. And you know what makes me mad about that? It's that in this base, there is a guy who's madly in love with you and who would make you the happiest girl on earth, but you ignore him because you don't want to see the truth."

"What are you talking about?" I asked confusedly.

"Don't act like you don't know."

"I swear I don't!" I defended myself.

"Andrew! He's in love with you, you stupid..." she exclaimed.

"Andrew?" I couldn't help laughing. "No way! We're just friends. We get along because we work together but that's all."

"Oh Freya..." she shook her head, acting as if she was my mother.

"Especially since he's clearly not looking for a serious relationship. Have you seen him with James? They flirt with every girl they meet. So, him being in love with me? That's too much!" I refused to be wrong.

"James maybe, but Andrew is different."

"He's with Vera!"

"Vera!" she rolled her eyes at the mention of her name. "Stop with her! He doesn't care about her."

"I saw them together. I heard what's said about them, I'm not stupid."

"She might be after him, but he's not after her. It's not her he's trying to see every day. It's you he spends hours talking to."

"Because we're friends!"

"This is not friendship. Don't be so naive!"

"Then if it's not friendship, how do you explain he hasn't tried anything? He's never tried to kiss me or do anything romantic."

"Because he's probably not sure of the way you feel, and rightly so! Anyway... I warned you," she shook her head and ignored me.

"I know I need to make a decision, but I'm waiting for an answer," I tried to explain.

"You already have your answer."

Silence settled between us. Eden was mad at me, and I had no idea why she had reacted so strongly to something so trivial. And why would she think Andrew was in love with me? That was just insane. Why people refused to accept that a man and a woman could be good friends without having an ulterior motive in mind?  
  
  


*****   
  
  


At the end of our work day, we had come out in front of the airplane hangar to wait for the boys. We were both leaning against the sheet metal wall, Eden smoking a cigarette while I played with a flower I had picked, tearing off its petals one by one. I had not stopped thinking about what Eden had told me, and even if her accusations sounded wrongful to me, I had that slight feeling of guilt that would not leave me. It was just me who could not think about something else, for she wasn't mad anymore and would comment on the men passing by:

"Oh, look at that Freya!" she said, admiring his behind. "Really, uniforms are the best thing on earth. All men look good wearing one."

I laughed at her clothing expertise.

"Gorgeous men at twelve o'clock," she whispered while two soldiers were clearly heading our way. I focused back on the flower I was torturing when they stopped right before us.

"Do you have a cigarette Miss?" one asked Eden.

She handed her pack of cigarettes, and they both grabbed one.

"How can we thank you?" the first asked seductively. He could not turn his eyes away from Eden, while his friend started moving closer to me.

"Maybe we could take you out tomorrow to dance, what do you think Mark?" he said, winking at his friend. He leant his arm against the wall, just above my shoulder, exhaling the smoke of his cigarette too close to my face, making me feel nauseous.

"What's your name, doll?" he asked.

"Freya," I replied politely, too intimidated to send him packing.

"I'm Victor," he said. "You're very beautiful. I love beautiful brunettes," he chatted me up, running his fingers through my hair before stroking my cheek without my consent. I laughed nervously. I felt trapped. I turned to Eden to ask for her help but she was not paying attention, too occupied with her soldier. I tried to stay calm as he insisted:

"We're happy to have you girls around here. It's good for the morale of the troops, especially when you're that hot."

I blushed, way too uncomfortable.

"Thank you but I'm not interested," I snapped at him.

"Why? Are you already dating someone?" he asked, surprised, as if it could be the only reason I would reject him.

"Yes."

"Well, perhaps you could forget him for a night?" he insisted again, stroking my arm with his dirty hand. I swallowed my disgust and closed my eyes, internally praying for a miracle to happen so he would leave me alone.

"Move, Victor!"

Andrew had appeared behind him and pronounced these words in his ear, slowly and firmly, causing Victor to tense and move away without further ado as he was visibly scared.

"Sorry Collins. I had no idea she was your girl!" he exclaimed before leaving with his friend. His last words had the merit to make me laugh, which led Andrew to laugh with me.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome. I know how Victor can be a pain in the ass with girls," he declared, casually running a hand through his blond hair. "Should we go?" he asked, looking at James and Eden who instantly agreed. Andrew, as a true gentleman, offered me his arm which I gladly accepted and we left for our walk.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Andrew had asked us to make a detour by the village and wait for him while he ran a quick errand. He had lost a bet against James and so he had been obliged to buy him cigarettes for the week, which could have been worst. When we had stopped on the square at the heart of the village, he had disappeared into the local shop, closely followed by Eden who felt like spending her money on some nice treats to forget the bland military food that was served to us every day, leaving me alone with James, who was not a chatterbox according to what I had experienced before. I stood silently at his side, wondering if I should start a conversation, when he caught me off-guard by speaking first.

"Nice day to be outside," he observed very flatly, as if he had also looked for something to say.

"Ah, yes! Thank you for suggesting this," I smiled, relieved to notice that he would not avoid speaking to me when it was just the two of us.

"Thanks for joining us. Everything that can take our mind off the war for a moment is worth taking," he smiled back and showed me he could talk without joking sometimes.

"How did it go today?"

"Fine. We did the job."

"You two are quite a team," I observed as I focused my attention on Andrew speaking to the manager on the other side of the window.

"He's my brother. I wouldn't want anyone as a teammate but him."

"The others must be jealous," I joked.

"Of what?"

"Of your special bond. I mean, not everyone has someone they can trust like you trust each other."

"Could have been different. I did not choose to be teamed with him, but he's a hard worker, and a great fighter in the air."

"And on the ground," I laughed.

"Why?"

"He punched William."

"Oh that!" he seemed to have already forgotten.

"You guys should keep those fights for the enemy instead of indulging into those stupidities."

"Andy never fights unless someone crosses the line. He's a sweetheart," he talked of his friend with fondness.

"Is someone disagreeing with your vision of politics seen as crossing the line?"

"Wait, that's what he told you?" he seemed surprised.

"Yes, why?"

"He punched that guy because he was disrespecting you!" he gave me a totally different version of the event.

"Me?"

"I can't believe he prefers to take the risk to be seen as an arsehole rather than showing you he cares about you..." he sighed.

I did not know what to say, and when I looked at Andrew coming out of the shop, holding the door for Eden, I was overwhelmed by an unknown feeling, a mix between gratefulness and guilt; a heartache, because nobody had ever been so good to me. He brought so much joy into my life, and I could not give it back. He was everything I had been looking for, but I could not have him.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I was at peace with her by my side, even if my heart raced each time our eyes locked. Talking to her made me the happiest man on earth, even if it was mostly about work. To know that another man had dared to look at her with desire put me beside myself. Yet, I wasn't surprised since she had seduced me so easily just by being herself. I was so thankful to have met her, that someone had put her in my way. That encounter was the only positive thing war had brought into my life, and I felt guilty for being happy about it. But she was so perfect. She was like a ray of sunshine brightening the dullest days, and I would enjoy her company to the fullest, because sooner or later, I would have to fly away to fight the enemy. And even if I dreaded that moment, knowing that Freya was there gave me the strength to be twice as brave.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as we were walking through the meadow, her fingers brushing the long grass, her face turning to the sun like a sunflower, her body so close to mine and yet unreachable. Her merry company was a benediction, even more in such beautiful setting, and seeing her in her civilian clothes felt like I was discovering a whole new person that I appreciated all the more.

"It's nice to see you wearing something other than your military uniform. It looks really nice on you, as always," I complimented her.

"Thank you!" she smiled. "It's more comfortable. I'd love to return the compliment, but you never leave your uniform."

"I was told I look good when wearing it, so I make the most of it," I joked.

"You do look good," she simply said.

"Really?" I asked, not quite sure I had heard correctly.

"I don't think I'm the first girl to tell you that," she replied.

"I only want to hear it from you."

"Stop it," she blushed.

She made me laugh with her spontaneous reactions, when she indirectly admitted that my compliments had some effect on her; and when I turned to her, I saw her pick a dandelion as a mischievous smile appeared on her face. She blew the little parachutes into my face before running away, knowing she wouldn't be able to get away with it. I rubbed my face to remove the seeds that had somehow stuck there and I chased her, leaving James and Eden behind us. In her escape, Freya turned around to check if I was following her, and she laughed heartily when she realised she was losing ground. That dream vision of her, in the middle of a field of wildflowers, so joyful and beautiful, was the most breathtaking thing I had ever seen in my life. It was like a bucolic painting you saw in the museum, the representation of a moment of happiness that carried a sense of nostalgia when you looked at it, and I was part of it, living it. I was faster than her, and so I caught her easily and held her in my arms, lifting her up to prevent her from running away one more time.

"You're going to regret that," I said, spinning around without letting her go. She was struggling to break free and shouting between two bursts of laughter, her hands grabbing onto me in search of control, but I was handling the situation. Eventually, I lost my balance and fell on by back with Freya on top of me, surrounded by tall grass sheltering us from the world surrounding us. She rolled onto her side and laid next to me, so close our arms were touching. We couldn't stop laughing and had difficulty catching our breath for a moment. When I managed to settle down, I lifted myself on one elbow to look at her and said:

"I told you you would regret it. But I have to admit that you already know how war works. You could win."

She laughed at my remark.

"I'm not at war with you" she said looking straight into my eyes, causing my heart to skip a beat. "Wait, you have seeds in your hair," she observed, moving her hand closer to my blond locks to remove the bits of grass that were bothering her. I looked at her the whole time and my eyes stopped on her lips that were slightly parted as she was focused on her task. I didn't know what was holding me back from kissing her at that very moment. It was everything I wanted to do and yet I did not dare to. Her eyes locked with mine again and we remained like that, completely silent, not quite sure of what this meant. A simple look was enough to express a lot about the way we felt. My heart was beating furiously, for she made me feel as vulnerable as when I was in the air. I was about to risk it all and do the bravest thing I had ever done when a lock of her brown hair fell in front of her eyes, and I instinctively put it back behind her ear. She quivered when my fingers brushed her cheek, and in a fragment of a second, everything fell apart. The sparkle in her eyes vanished and she quickly stood up, as if frightened by my hand against her skin, and I did the same, not sure to understand what was happening.

"Maybe we should go back to James and Eden. I don't want them to worry," she said, looking away. I agreed reluctantly and followed her. For a moment, I had thought that I could finally tell her what I felt for her. I knew there was something between us and that one had to break the ice. I was ready for it, but it was as though Freya had taken fright and I had lost her. It was made clear when she didn't say a word to me for the rest of the walk.


	5. False hope

"What happened earlier?" Eden persistently asked, looking for an explanation to the muteness I had unexpectedly adopted for the rest of our outing.

"Nothing Eden! Drop it!" I replied coldly as I entered our bedroom and headed to my bed, but I stopped abruptly when I noticed a letter placed on the pillow. I sat at the end of the mattress and took it carefully in my hands, and as I turned it over to discover who the sender was, a lump formed in my throat. Eden had noticed that something was wrong, so she asked carefully: "Is it from Lewis?" I nodded in confirmation. I opened the envelope and started reading its content.

_My sweet Freya,_

_You've left for several weeks now, and your absence becomes harder to deal with every day. I didn't write sooner because I was mad at you for leaving so hastily. It felt like you left me behind. But I know now how important it is for you to help your country, and I admire you for your strength and determination. Believe me, I would have come with you if it was not for my heart._

_I wanted to apologize for my childish behaviour and tell you how I miss you._

_My life without you is just an empty shell. Your silence is the punishment I deserve, I don't blame you. I hope you'll forgive me. I promise I'll make up for it, I'll never hurt you again._

_Just so you know, I will come to Duxford in a few days. When you receive this letter, it will be a matter of hours before we meet again; if you wish. I'm longing to see you._

_With all my love my angel,_

_Lewis_

I could feel tears filling my eyes, and I quickly left the room to seek shelter in the dark corridor where I hoped nobody would see me. I rested my back against the wall and let my body slip to the floor, with the letter still in my hands. Sobs became stronger and tears slid down my cheeks when I realised the situation I was in. I had received the answer I was expecting. He had given me a proof that he loved me, written the words I had wanted to hear from him for so long, but instead of relief, it was sadness that had overwhelmed me. The terrible feeling that it had come too late. Suddenly, I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder and Eden's presence by my side.

"What's going on Freya?" she asked. I handed her the letter as an answer. She read it quickly and turned to me: "Shouldn't it be something good?"

"It should have been, but not after today..."

"Why that?"

"You were right. This afternoon, with Andrew, it... I felt something when I was with him... The way he was looking at me made me feel so special, and I realised I hadn't felt something like that with Lewis for a long time. And then he sends me that letter to sort things out, and in the meantime, I fall in love with another man." I burst into tears pronouncing those last words, ashamed and guilty. I did not deserve any of these men. 

Eden took me into her arms and rubbed my back as a desperate attempt to comfort me.

"Maybe you should tell Lewis how you feel so that he doesn't come here for nothing," she suggested.

"No. No, I can't. I have to see him. I can't do that with a letter," I paused before adding, "I don't even know what to do Eden. I don't know what's the right thing to do. I'm so lost."

"You'll find out," she reassured me.

I did not sleep that night because of all the questions crossing my mind. I needed to know what I wanted. A man who had loved me for years, who was good to me despite his flaws and who could give me a comfortable life, or a handsome stranger I had met weeks ago, with whom everything felt so simple, but for whom the idea of a future was so uncertain? I was torn between two options, the security of the present or the temptation of the unknown. Andrew was everything Lewis was not, anymore, and maybe it was the reason I felt so attached to him. I wanted to convince myself that the feelings I thought I had for him were the result of the emotional isolation in which I had found myself, and that I was trying to fill the void I had created since I had moved away from Lewis. I missed him, maybe it was not obvious but I was sure I missed him. I was not ready to give up what I had built for so long and so, I clung to my shaky relationships, despite what I felt in my heart. Lewis and I had great memories together, and I had no doubt about what he could give me, whereas I wasn't even sure of Andrew's feelings for me, even after all the nice things he had told me. Maybe it was just a game for him, and he was doing to me the same things he would do with Vera. Maybe he was not the man I thought he was, or it was just me refusing to see what was in front of my eyes. In any case, I could only choose one, and when the sun rose up the next morning, I had made up my mind. I would meet Lewis and I would give us a second chance. Andrew and I were just friends, we had not moved to the next step yet and it was still time for me to stop before it was too late. I had not promised him more, and things would stay the way they were. That was what I wanted, or at least I thought.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I was already at my desk when the commandant entered the office, followed by ten fighter pilots, including Andrew and James. Three young men carrying crates brought up the rear, put their load on the table at the centre of the room and left. I took a deep breath and realised my decision, the one I was so sure about, would be put to the test. I would have to be strong enough to impose limits and not succumb to Andrew's charms, because the way he would always look at me was my weakness.

After a moment, the commandant took the floor: "Gentlemen, we have received the new uniforms for the Royal Air Force. Please, try them on. Miss Wright and Miss Pembley, would you help them make their whole outfit up, please?" he added, turning to Eden and me, waiting for our response, and left the room once we had obliged.

As soon as he had departed, the soldiers had started taking their clothes off, knowing why they were there and what they had to do. I felt like I was not supposed to stand in that room, surrounded by so many men, and I turned my back to them, Eden doing the same and giggling as she looked at me.

"Are we paid to look at men stripping down to their underwear? Is that what war is about?" she whispered as she gazed at them from the corner of her eye.

My friend was not being supportive, only seeing the funny aspect of the situation and forgetting that it was another hardship for me as I would once again doubt my feelings for my fiancé. I could not behave lightly like her and just enjoy the memorable scene that was taking place next to me. It was wrong, but she did not have to worry about it.

"What are we supposed to do?" I asked Eden, who was definitely more at ease than I was.

"Help them find what fits them I guess," she told me before turning around to face the group of men who were waiting for us.

I followed suit and as I forced myself to act natural, my eyes landed on Andrew's figure. He was removing his shirt when I focused on him, and he caught me in the act when he turned to me, naked to the waist. My cheeks went red and I looked away with embarrassment, but I quickly went back to my contemplation, my new resolution already forgotten. He had a fine body, defined muscles that I couldn't stop gazing at. All the men in this room were more than fine but Andrew was the only one catching my attention, and he was aware of that.

"Okay ladies, I hope you enjoyed what you saw because we're going to put our clothes back on," James joked. I looked down, betraying myself, causing Andrew and James to laugh, but there was nothing funny about that. I felt awful, as if I was cheating when I should only have one man in my heart and my thoughts.

Determined not to appear crestfallen, I joined Eden and helped the boys find the right items of clothing to complete their uniform. As I was walking back to the table after having given his tie to one of the pilots, I felt someone grab me by the hand. I turned around to be faced by the one I was trying to avoid.

"Can you help me put my tie on correctly please?" he asked me with his charming smile. I agreed, not able to stop blushing each time he was talking to me that way. He probably knew how to do it alone, but it was part of his game and I could not say no, or did not want to, even if I had to take my distance. He lifted his chin so I had access to his collar but I could see the wide smile on his face.

"I had not planned to be in front of you wearing so little clothing that quickly," he teased me. "I hope you don't mind."

I forced myself to remain professional, so he would not get a wrong idea of our relationship, but how could I refuse to be nice to someone who was always so kind to me, so harmless, so genuinely good. I could not refuse him my friendship.

"That's my job," I replied before smoothing his tie with my fingertips and buttoning up his jacket. I believed it, that I was just doing my job, helping him like I had helped his comrades, behaving with him like I would with any of my friends, and I hoped he would believe it too.

"There you go! Ready for your next mission," I told him, forcing a smile. He was so proud to wear that uniform, he was glowing, but deep down, I knew that the next time he would take off, he might never come back.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I looked at the wild flowers I had picked earlier and hoped she would like them. I had not picked any poppies for I remembered they withered very quickly and I would see that as a bad omen, nor the dandelions that I had left in the field, because even though they were now more to me than simple flowers, they were not the prettiest things to offer to a girl; so I had gathered all the pretty plants I had found, mixed bright colours until I had been pleased with the result. I hoped that it would remind her of that afternoon together and of what I was certain we had both felt, and maybe it would help her say yes when I would ask her to come to the dance with me.

So, I was standing there, on this evening of May, outside the building reserved for women volunteers, trying to convince myself this was the right thing to do. I was looking at the door, my hands behind my back, holding my measly bouquet of flowers, waiting for the first girls to come out and for Freya to tell me I was not mistaken. As I became more and more nervous, what I thought to be a romantic gift quickly started looking stupid. Wild flowers... What was I thinking about?

"Spitfires?"

A voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned around to discover a civilian leaning back against his fancy car, and the only thought that came to my mind was that this man was out of place.

"Excuse me?" I politely asked him to confirm he was rightly talking to me. He must have been older, close to his thirties, but he was not wearing a military uniform, contrary to all the men in that age group. He was obscenely well dressed and it obviously made me feel less confident.

"Your uniform, you're a pilot. Are you flying Spitfires?" he questioned.

"I do Sir," I replied, showing him respect.

"I heard you were doing a great job up there to protect our country," he said, pointing to the sky. "We owe you a lot!"

"We're just doing our job," I humbly replied. "It's our duty to defend our homeland."

"I wish I could be of some use. I would've liked to be a pilot too, if only they had let me enrol."

I did not know what to answer, but I smiled faintly to be polite.

"Are you asking a girl out?" he asked one more question, looking at the flowers I was holding in my hands.

"That's the idea," I smiled. "I know the flowers may seem ridiculous, but they mean something to me," I felt the need to explain, as if trying to reassure myself on my choice.

"She must be some girl to deserve such a symbolic gift," he said, giving me a wink.

"She's the perfect girl," I replied, observing the first recruits leaving the building.

"I know how you feel, I've found the perfect girl too," he declared, moving one step away from his car. "There she is by the way."

And here's mine, I thought to myself as I saw Freya walking my way, gorgeous as always.

"Freya!"

She looked around to see who had called her, and a smile brightened her face when she understood. But it was not me who had pronounced her name. It was the gentleman with the car who was running to her. Helpless, I observed him lift her into his arms and kiss her passionately, as my heart broke into a million pieces. I swallowed my disillusion and looked away, trying not to appear disappointed as the couple was walking to their car. I had never felt so stupid in my whole life. Stupid to have thought Freya would be single. Stupid to have thought she might like me, a modest soldier. I was nobody to her.

"Good luck man!" her boyfriend said when walking past me. I saluted him, keeping my composure, but in my heart, I hated him. It was only at that moment that Freya finally noticed I was there, and the stunned look on her face was like a stab in the back. She really seemed surprised, as if she wasn't expecting to see me there, when we would always meet in the evening.

I pretended to wait for someone else till they started the car and drove away. I could not look at her and let her see how foolish I was. The disappointment I felt was in myself, and all I wanted was to disappear. Once I noticed no one was around anymore, I left the scene to get back to my quarters. I dropped the bouquet to the floor and went on, heavy-hearted. The wind was carrying the petals away as well as my hope to be with Freya one day.


	6. Bad feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that this story takes place before and after the events of Dunkirk. But it's quite obvious I guess. Thanks for reading anyway :)

My reunion with Lewis the day before had not been what I had imagined. I had been happy when I had seen him waiting for me outside, flattered by the fact he had kept his promise. It had felt so nice to be in his arms again and to receive his affection, but a part of me had frozen when I had seen Andrew and he had avoided eye contact. He had talked to my boyfriend but not me, and the truth I had dreaded to tell him was now out of the bag, whether I liked it or not, and I was afraid it would change things between us.

I had sat in Lewis's car and tried to erase the wrong sentiment of guilt that had overwhelmed me, which had been increased by my boyfriend's mention of Andrew during the ride, of the fact that he was waiting for a girl to ask her out and that it had reminded him of us at the beginning of our relationship. He did not know that his words made me more sad than happy, because we were obviously not like that anymore, and because the simple thought of Andrew wanting a girl that was not me hurt me to the core. I had held back my tears and tried to shush the voice in my head that kept telling me that the girl should have been me, that I had made the wrong choice, that I should have chosen him. It was too late now; I had wanted Lewis and I had let Andrew slip away from me, I could not have both. My heart felt terribly empty but my reason, stubborn as it was, told me I had to think about Lewis and on how to fix our couple.

I had forced myself to enjoy the evening with him, the dinner at the pub he had all planned to please me. I had done my best to focus on what we had, but Andrew would always be in a corner of my mind, and I would compare every little action Lewis made to what I had experienced with Andrew. His hand holding mine was not making my heart race, the contact of his skin against my skin had nothing electrifying, his eyes were not shining when looking at me, he did not make me feel special. The signs of affection he had shown at the beginning had quickly given place to his old behaviour. He had politely asked questions about my job before focusing on his life in London again, talking about how much money he had spent at the bar with his partners, how much his fancy car had cost, and how dreadful it must be for me to live in this boring place. He was belittling me, again, talking to me as if I would come round thanks to him and agree to follow him back to London. He did not mean what he had written in his letter, but I had gullibly believed every word of it. I should have been used to it, but I kept repeating the same mistakes, agreeing to stay despite knowing it was not the best for me, but I had somehow convinced myself I did not deserve better. I was his girlfriend, so I had to be happy to be with him, or at least fake it, and it was what I had done.

When I stepped into the office the next morning, I noticed the boys were already gathered around maps to debrief the mission of the morning. They all seemed tired, especially Andrew whose face was inscrutable. He was the only one who did not respond to my greetings, and even though his absence of attention was unusual, I was sure he had a good reason to act like that; but as the little hand moved around the clock, he stayed away from me, not even looking at me once. I felt unfairly rejected, unable to see my wrongdoing there. I couldn't bear to be ignored by him, to be deprived of his charming smile and his enchanting blue eyes just because he had moved on to someone else. I refused to believe I had lost him.

I took advantage of a break to follow him into the corridors, ignoring Eden's disapproving look. She had told me that he was probably in a bad mood and that it was just a matter of time before he came to talk to me, but I knew something was wrong. James and he had just passed the door leading to the airplane hangar when I dared to pronounce his name.

"Andrew?" I begged him. "Can we talk?"

He turned around without even looking at me as I approached him.

"You can go, I'll catch up with you later," he told James, who left us alone among the warplanes.

"What?" he asked, running a hand through his hair, betraying his bad mood as he appeared quite irritated by my presence. I tried in vain to meet his eyes, but he was always looking away, and I felt my heart clench at his unusual behaviour towards me. I wanted to go back to the way it was before.

"Look at me..." I implored him. "Please," I insisted, taking his face in my hands, forcing him to confront me, hoping that maybe he would become the Andrew I knew again. I immediately regretted acting so foolishly when I saw the pain in his eyes. He removed my hands from his jaw and stepped back before spitting his question at me:

"What do you want Freya?!"

"Why are you ignoring me?" I questioned him, fearing his answer.

Andrew laughed nervously, running his hand over his face, and then planting his eyes into mine. He had a stern expression and drawn features. I had never seen him like that.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he said angrily.

"No! I don't know what I've—"

"Why didn't you tell me you had someone?" he shouted.

There we were. I could not ignore it anymore, it was right in my face, the biggest mistake I had ever made. Eden had been right from the beginning, and I felt like a complete idiot. I remained silent because I was convinced that whatever I'd say, nothing would make him forgive me, so he insisted:

"Why didn't you tell me you had a fiancé?"

He was standing right in front of me, waiting for an answer.

"I couldn't find the right time..." was the only excuse that came to my mind and I knew it was not what he wanted to hear, but I was too afraid to tell him I did not want to lose him.

"That's bullshit!" he raised his voice. "Are you really telling me that during all this time we were talking every fucking day, you couldn't let me know that you were already dating someone?"

He turned away from me and buried his face into his hands, sighing with anger.

"You've fooled me Freya!" he continued, facing me again. "You've let me think you were into me. You made me think there was something between us. You've replied to my advances. You've never sent me packing. You've let me fall in love with you!" His voice broke when pronouncing those last words. "You've let me love you and then you've crushed me."

I remained still, my head down, letting him unleash all his resentment because I deserved it.

"You can't have my attention whenever you want and get rid of me when he comes back. You can't play with my feelings like that."

With those words, he turned his back to me and walked away, leaving me all alone in the huge hangar, and it was only when I heard the door slam that I allowed myself to cry.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I joined James who was already working on his plane and stood beside him, saying nothing, just observing him check the Rolls-Royce engine. I was trying to get Freya out of my mind, with difficulty. I had told her I loved her and she hadn't even said a word. Her silence had made me feel even worse and confirmed she had taken me for a fool. All the moments we had shared had been lies; she had played with me all along and I had thought she liked me. I could not believe I had been so wrong.

As I paced the floor around him, James turned to me, visibly impatient.

"What did she say? Just spit it out! I know you need to talk to someone, I'm here for that."

He managed to make me smile because he was right, I needed to talk to someone about it.

"She gave me some lame excuses. It was mostly me talking the whole time. She said she didn't know when to tell me. Like I'm gonna believe that..." I said, forcing a laugh.

"Maybe she had a reason. I'm not trying to defend her here mate, but maybe she cares too much about you and she didn't tell you because she knew you would shy away."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Well, what I saw today is that you ignored her and didn't ask her to explain herself until she came to talk to you."

"Because I'm mad at her! And when she came to me, she didn't even know why I was mad. She didn't even look sorry. So, don't tell me she cares about me. She doesn't give a fuck about my feelings," I grumbled.

"So, what are you gonna do? Are you giving up on her? You told me she was the one, man!"

"That's what I thought, but she's already taken! I'm not going to steal her from him. I have no chance anyway, the man is so wealthy, he can give her anything she wants. I can only give her my love."

"Maybe that's what she wants."

"Don't talk nonsense." I sighed.

"If she was that happy with him, she wouldn't have come to you. Trust me," he smiled.

"Well, too bad I don't want to have anything to do with her anymore..." I replied. "Maybe you were right from the beginning, maybe I should just let go and stop looking for the perfect girl who doesn't exist. I'm only twenty-five and risking my life every damn day. I should enjoy myself and not waste my time for a girl who doesn't want me."

James shook his head and smiled.

"You do what you want, mate. But be careful not to do something you would regret."

"I'm not the one who's going to regret anything," I whispered.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I hadn't seen Andrew for the rest of the day, and it was better like that. I had cried enough already. Eden had somehow comforted me, too nice not to remind me that she had warned me. She had told me nonetheless that I couldn't blame Andrew for being mad at me and she was right. I was blaming myself because I was the only one to blame. But now I had to pretend that everything was alright, even though I couldn't stop thinking about my argument with him. I should have said something and run after him instead of letting him go away, but I had done nothing and he probably thought I had made fun of him. It was not what I had wanted. I had tried to stop it before it was too late, but his company was too sweet for me to put an end to it. I was a coward, he was right.

I had never thought I would feel so bad about it. I had tried to erase these thoughts from my mind when I had dressed up for the night out, but I had felt numb, and my heart could experience nothing but a terrible emptiness. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I had hated what I had seen. I had put on my favourite dress to go dancing, even though I was not in the mood to go out. My only desire had been to take it off immediately, but Lewis had insisted, and I couldn't use my sadness as an excuse anyway, since he had no idea what was going on with Andrew. Resigned, I had done everything to pretend I was fine. I had styled my hair nicely, added my favourite jewellery and put a smile on my face, like an accessory. The makeup I had used was not enough to cover my weary face. My eyes were still swollen with tears, but Lewis had seen nothing under the mask. He had greeted me as usual, complimented me and driven me to town, and I had started thinking that he was not paying attention to me at all.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, ready to face it. The atmosphere was very festive in the streets, and Lewis offered me his arm as we made our way to the hall. A catchy music was slipping out of the main door and groups of young people were laughing outside, forgetting war for a night. It was at that moment that I saw him. I recognised his blue uniform, his blond hair neatly styled and his jolly laugh filling the air. He was leaning against the wall of the building, next to the door, and was talking to a group of other soldiers and young women. He was cheerful with them, completely different from how he had talked to me hours before, but it was understandable, and I was somehow relieved he would not think about me. I tightened my grip around Lewis's arm, internally praying that he would not see me, so he would go on with his night. I could not face him one more time. I tried to hide behind my boyfriend as we climbed the stairs, making myself as little as possible, but he caught my eyes and immediately stopped talking, looking at me with a closed face. He was obviously still angry at me, and seeing me with Lewis would probably not arrange things between us. He hated me now, and James probably too, for he did not smile when he saw me. I hurried my pace so they disappeared from my sight as I followed my boyfriend into the building, allowing me to breathe again.   
  
  


*****   
  
  


Of course, she had come with him to the dance, she had no reason to hide anymore. Why would she care about not hurting me? She had chosen him and I had just been a toy to pass the time, and yet, I could not hate her completely. There was something in her face and in her eyes, that told me I did not know everything, and I felt sorry for her.

I had decided I would pretend she did not exist and enjoy the night as I would have done before I had met her. She was nothing to me. To help me keep my new resolution, I had taken James with me to the bar and ordered directly some hard stuff to put us in the mood. The first one went smoothly down my throat, and I gladly welcomed the bracing feeling that ran through my body. James immediately ordered a second round, proving me I could always rely on him, and we swallowed our drinks just as quickly as the first ones, thrilled by the sensation of the alcohol burning our throat. I felt like I needed a third, but James who had noticed the very brief sparkle of doubt in my eyes had grabbed me by the neck to draw me close to him, so close to his face I could smell the vapours of the alcohol he had just had when he talked to me.

"You don't think about her tonight, alright mate? You don't need her! Just look at all the girls you can have! Have fun!"

"I know, I know. She doesn't matter."

"You promise you won't talk to her?"

"Yeah," I answered without spirit.

"You better not lie to me!"

"No, I swear. Who needs love anyway?" I laughed to try to convince myself I meant what I said, but I could not fool him.

"Fuck it, let's have one more!" he called the barman as he gave me a slap on the back with his other hand.

I didn't say no and I looked at the amber liquid being poured in our glasses, hoping that maybe, if I had enough, I would have the impression to be with her instead of some other girl. I wished I would not feel so sad, that I would not care that much. The night had only just started and I knew I would regret it the next day.

"Hey, Spitfire guy!" someone grabbed my shoulder to get my attention, interrupting me as I was about to drink my glass of whisky.

It was that Londoner in his fancy clothes, acting as if we were friends, but his face was the last thing I wanted to see and I had no desire to fake to like him. I looked at him, unbothered to say a word, but he did not seem to get the message for he did not keep his mouth shut.

"So, how did it work out for you?" he asked, looking at me as if his question was obvious, while I had no idea what he meant.

"The girl you asked out, is she here with you?" he enlightened me.

"Oh," I raised my eyebrows as I finally get what he wanted to know. "Aye, she's somewhere around there," I lied as I scanned the room to find where Freya was waiting for him, but I could not see her anywhere.

"Good, who would say no to a lad like you! A good man devoted to his country," he was treating me as if we were comrades.

"Some can be very ungrateful," I implied more than I said.

"Man, I know. I've driven all the way from London to come to see mine in that shitty place, and she didn't give me more than a kiss. But tonight is the night I get what I want," he said as he grabbed the two drinks he had ordered and winked at me.

I hated the satisfied smile he adorned on his face. I just hated his face to be honest, and I wanted to punch him, but I did not. It would have made things worse, and it was not the point.

"Who's that?" James finally stepped in.

"Freya's man," I informed my friend who observed him with surprise, probably not expecting her to date a well-born.

"Lewis. How do you know—" he started his question but was interrupted by James.

"You're not fighting?" he asked him directly, referring to the fact he was one of the only men in the room not wearing a uniform.

"No..."

"Why? You're a pacifist? A coward? Or maybe part of the lucky ones?" he roasted him in front of me, and I could not repress a laugh.

"Medical condition," he simply stated, his smile suddenly weaker.

"Oh wait! Let me guess..." I grabbed the opportunity to make fun of him. "Weak heart!"

"That's what they all say," James added, but Freya's boyfriend tried his best not to respond to his attack and ignored him.

"How do you know Freya?" he asked instead.

"We work with her every day," James let him know.

"Ah. I could have felt threatened, knowing she's around men like you all the time, since she thinks a man going to war is worthier," he gave an awkward laugh. "I had to remind her that a uniform doesn't make you someone if you were no one at the beginning."

We could clearly see he was trying to hurt our pride, but we would not give him the pleasure to get ticked off easily.

"You're right mate, but they're quite happy to ask us to take it off," James flippantly replied.

"I bet they do," he laughed. "But not mine, she's different. She's the most naïve, innocent girl to exist."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She's way too trustful. She thinks everyone is as loyal in love as she is. But I don't know a man who stays loyal when he doesn't see his woman for weeks," he announced proudly, showing his true colours.

I forced myself not to insult him for the way he spoke about her. Instead, I swallowed my last drink for good countenance before I stood up. The man made a step back, as if he thought I would touch him, but I only grabbed one of the glasses he had in his hands and drunk it down in one go before placing it back, looking directly in his eyes.

"Enjoy before she realises she deserves better," I warned him, patting his shoulder condescendingly as he had done with me earlier, and walked away with my friend.

"He drinks gin," I let James know and winced at the taste the alcohol had left in my mouth. "Who drinks gin? I hate that stuff!"

I could not believe she had chosen to be with a man like him.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


My body was automatically moving to the rhythm of the music as Lewis was holding me in his arms. I forced myself to enjoy the moment, to laugh at the jokes of my partner, and to smile as much as possible when he was looking at me, but my eyes were always drawn to Andrew, on the other side of the dancefloor. He wasn't alone, and had been dancing with the same girl for several songs now. Vera. I could see him lean over to whisper things in her ear, and each time, she would artlessly laugh and gently punch his shoulder, faking to push him back. I was jealous of her. I envied the way he was looking at her, smiling at her, touching her. I was sick to see him place his hands on her hips, or to witness her touch his face and hug him as if he was hers. All this time, I had thought it was her he wanted, but it could have been me. I could have been the one in his arms, the one he was laughing with and to whom he was giving all his attention and affection. I could have been a part of his world, but he had replaced me, and I was devastated. My eyes filled with tears as I saw him run his hand through her hair, and give her his most charming smile, his body so close to hers, his face only inches away from her lips. When he raised his eyes in my direction, he met mine for a second, and I suddenly stepped back, as if transfixed by the blueness of his gaze. I went back to reality when Lewis, who had no idea why I had reacted that way, stroked my cheek and forced me to look at him.

"Is everything alright, darling?" he tenderly asked.

I wanted to tell him that nothing was right. Nothing was right anymore. My world was upside down. My heart was lost, and it made me suffer for I was irresistibly attracted to a man other than the one I was in a relationship with.

"I'm ... not feeling really well," I half-lied. "Can you take me back to my place, please?"

Lewis accepted and we left the place, and as we made our way out of the room, I knew Andrew was looking at me and savouring his victory. He had made things very clear for the both of us.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I had been on the verge of crying for the whole drive back, unable to pronounce a word for fear it would betray my state and I would break down. Lewis had not say anything either, and the silence that filled the car when he stopped the engine had never felt so awkward. I did not dare to look at him, afraid to see an expression of discontent on his face. I had ruined his night and there was no way he would not be upset about it.

"What's wrong with you?" he suddenly asked, every kindness having disappeared from his tone of voice. "You've been acting weird the whole time we've been together. You've not said a single word!"

I looked down, ashamed of myself, of putting him through this. It was clear by his tone of voice that I was the source of our problems.

"I've had a long day. I've a lot on my mind because of work, sorry," I found the courage to apologise and give him what he expected.

"You were not at work tonight, so why do you always look so sad?"

"I'm just tired..."

"I'm tired too, but here I am. I made all the road to see you and that's how you thank me? You could make an effort."

"I'm sorry..." I kept apologising, hoping it would be enough.

"I was expecting a bit more from you. You know it's hard for me not to see you for a long time, you could show a bit more gratitude," he placed his hand below my chin and forced me to look at him, his fingers lingering on my skin showing what he had in mind.

"Is that the only reason you came to see me?" I left his touch as everything finally became so clear.

"No, but I was just hoping maybe you'll want me, but you don't even let me touch you. I've needs Freya, I'm a man, and a wife's duty is to please her man!"

"I'm not your wife!"

"You're my fucking girlfriend! It's the same!" he raised his voice, a threatening glimmer crossing his eyes.

"I don't owe you anything!" I found the courage to stand up to him.

"Maybe, but we're a couple, and if you want it to work out, you've to give a lot of yourself. I did. I was the one who apologised and wrote first to make things better. I came for you. It's your turn now."

I gave a scornful laugh at the absurdity of his words. He really believed he had been the one behaving like an adult when all he had done was pretending to be sorry so he could maybe fuck me? That was all men wanted, they were all the same. They were only interested in women to fulfil their needs, and if they could not have what they wanted, they would quickly move to the next one.

"Good night!" I said and left him without bothering to let him know how he had upset me. I was not sad anymore, I was angry.

He did not try to hold me back and immediately drove away in a screech of tyres. Him running after me would have been surprising, but it would have meant he cared a minimum about our relationship. He had given me the confirmation of what I had felt for a long time now, and I wished I had found it way before, so that I would not have made the mistake to choose him.

I hurried through the corridors, avoiding eye contact with the few people I met on the way to my room. Empty, I collapsed on my bed without even taking my dress off. My roommates had not come back yet, and I was not surprised. I was the only one for whom that night had been a torture. Everything had turned into a big mess that I had no idea how to fix, if it was possible to fix it. The easiest would have been to erase everything and start again, but I could not, and I would have to live with the guilt and regrets forever.

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling, trying to clear my mind, but he was everywhere. He would always come back and possess my thoughts. I would replay the night in my head, and see him dance with her. I could picture all of his gestures as if I was there again. And I could feel the same pain over and over, the same heartbreak that would take over everything. I was angry with him for having come to the dance with another girl. I hated him for having deliberately looked at me after being romantic with her. I hated him because he had hurt me. Or was it me I hated? Because I had refused to follow my heart, been too scared to change things, and let my lack of confidence prevent me from being brave, too afraid that people would judge me. Yes, I hated myself because I had played with fire and I got burnt. I had been punished in the worst way; I had lost Andrew. This only thought made my heart race, and when I closed my eyes to try to catch my breath, tears started running down my cheeks and I was unable to stop them.


	7. Together at last

Some mornings were harder than others, and today was a tough one. The pain hammering my head because of the hangover was not putting me in the best mood. That and the fact I had probably got up on the wrong side of the bed. How could it be otherwise considering the bad night I had just had? My mother used to tell me that a clear conscience helped sleep at night, and my conscience was clearly not good when I had gone to bed the day before. I had wanted to pay Freya back in her own coin, show her that I was not the kind of guy with whom she could play. We had switched roles, I was the one playing now. I was so mad at her, and I wanted her to know, but I had gone too far. I had understood that when I had seen her eyes full of tears after I had purposely made a move on Vera, knowing she was watching us. I wanted to make her jealous, not to hurt her, but I could act like a real arsehole sometimes... Even if I was cross with her, it was no excuse to behave the way I had, and remembering the night only made me feel worse about myself.

As I had expected, the atmosphere was tense when I entered the office. Freya had completely ignored me when she had walked past me, but I was not surprised. Yet, I would have preferred for us never to reach that point. It was like a break-up, a very bad break-up, although we had never been together. How ironic...

I suddenly regretted mixing work and feelings, already hearing what everyone would tell me when they would realise what was happening. Quite irritated by the situation, I did not try to confront her and I went to my friends. Some were in a better state than I was and they did not fail to point it out.

"So, Collins, rough night yesterday?"

"Not recovered yet?"

"I'm fine guys," I replied with a smile, as they gently nudged me around.

"Where did you go at the end of the night? Don't you have something to tell us?"

I kept smiling but on the inside, I was hoping for them to change the subject. I did not want Freya to think I had gone further with the other girl. There was enough tension between us already.

"I've got nothing to tell you. I went to bed, that's all," I replied, trying to put an end to that conversation.

"Really? Because that cute blond girl you were dancing with was nowhere to be seen either."

"I went back to our quarters guys, I swear!" I said, raising my hands to prove my innocence.

I silently implored them to stop asking questions, but they failed to understand.

"Anyway, you don't deny yourself anything! Vera is like, super-hot!"

"She definitely has a crush on you, being all over you like that. She's not even trying to hide it, lucky bastard!"

"Don't try to tell us you didn't leave with her, I don't believe you; but I have to say I was quite surprised to see you with her, I thought you were more into Frey..."

He stopped when he saw the disapproving frown on my face, realising his blunder. When he started looking at his feet, I understood Freya had heard. Everything became silent as she came towards us to put a bunch of maps on the table.

"If he's as fickle in war as he's in love, then he'll soon become your enemy," she coldly flung before going back to her desk.

I looked up and laughed nervously, cut to the quick by her words. That was savage. I gritted my teeth to control my anger and to prevent any word I could regret to come out of my mouth. I could see on their faces that my friends were stunned by what they had witnessed. James was the only one to know what could have motivated Freya's comment, and he knew it was not the right time to talk about it. Even though she had succeeded, I did not want her to see she had hurt my feelings, so I moved to the table and started studying the maps she had brought. Nobody dared to mention what they had seen, nobody but one who was more than happy to use that against me.

"Looks like the darling girl doesn't want the perfect pilot," William said mockingly. "How does it feel to be rejected like that? I guess you're not used to it."

"Fuck you," I sighed.

"It must hurt, you know, to be convinced you've already won the girl over, only to discover she had a man all that time you were trying to get her. She's played you so well, Collins, it's delightful."

I clenched my fist and pressed it against the wooden table top, focusing my attention on something else than him in order not to lose control. I would not give him this satisfaction.

"Shut your mouth William or I tear your head off your body," James said calmly, knowing the scene from days ago was about to be re-enacted for everyone to enjoy.

I didn't hear William's answer for I caught sight of Freya leaving the room and decided to follow her and confront her about what had just happened.

"Freya!" I called to draw her attention, but she kept walking through the corridor, ignoring me. There I was again, running after her, but the scene was completely different from days before, and even if it had nothing of a romance anymore, this time I would not let her run away without giving me a good explanation. I grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to face me.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"What are you talking about?" she said, trying to free herself from my grip, but I did not let go.

"You're being mean."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not your perfect little nurse laughing at everything you say!" she snapped. I probably deserved that.

"Freya..." I sighed, releasing her arm.

"Why don't you go join her instead of staying with me since I'm such a bad girl? I'm sure she would be so happy to see you."

She looked at me with an air of defiance.

"Freya, stop," I tried to reason with her.

"Is it all a game to you?"

"What, no!"

"You say you love me and the very same day, you're already with another girl! What am I supposed to believe?"

"I acted stupid, I know! I'm sorry, okay?"

"You're not as good as you think you are. You're no better than the men you despise!"

"Oh really?" I let out a laugh, not quite believing what she had just said.

"Yes! You've made it very clear!"

"Well, at least now there is something clear between us," I used the same tone. "Your feelings towards me have never been so obvious, thank you for finally expressing them!"

"At least mine won't change from one day to the other!" she retorted.

"What do you want from me?" I lost my temper. "I told you what I feel for you, but what about you? What have you done? Have you left your boyfriend? Tell me, have you left him to be with me? I don't think so! So, why are you being jealous?"

"You can't be with someone else..." she admitted in a low voice.

"I'm not yours! Why should I wait for you indefinitely?"

"You said you loved me!"

"But I love you Freya! I'm crazy about you!" I yelled.

"Then prove it!" she declared, expecting something from me that I could not give her.

I paused, tired by a situation that was leading nowhere. Yelling at each other would not make things better. I was just showing the worst part of me and giving her a good reason to hate me. I was acting just as bad as she thought I was, and it was not the point. So, to ease the tension that had escalated way too quickly, I replied quietly:

"I won't be able to prove you anything as long as you're with him. I'm sorry."

I shook my head with disappointment. She was holding all the cards now, only her could do something for us and I hoped she would realise that. I was well aware that things were over before they had even started. Everything had turned to dust and I couldn't do anything about it, so I headed back to the office, leaving her alone, regretting my decision to have followed her in the first place. Seeing the way people were looking at me, I knew they had heard our argument, but nothing could matter anymore.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Our workday was coming to an end, and I was emotionally exhausted. It was already late for we had spent the whole afternoon and evening organizing the meeting that would take place in a few minutes to announce the next big operation, which had somehow helped me think about something other than the awful words Andrew and I had exchanged earlier, but made me worry about our soldiers. Our commandant had let us know that the situation on the European continent was very bad, and that the enemy was dangerously coming closer to the coasts, threatening our safety and troops. Hundreds of thousands of men were trapped in Dunkirk and saving them was our priority. Air support was needed to protect the ships sent to repatriate our soldiers because the Luftwaffe was sinking them, and so Spitfires had to step in. They would be the soldiers in the air of the Operation Dynamo, as it was called. Six pilots from the squadron would be requisitioned, six courageous men that I would maybe see for the last time.

The door abruptly opened as I put a full stop to complete the report I had been asked to write. I immediately stood up from my seat to salute my chief who had just come in. I was holding my breath, hoping not to recognize Andrew among the pilots entering the room, but he was there, closely followed by James, and both of them took a seat in front of the board where the mission plan was displayed. I gave Eden an anxious look, and she tried to reassure me with a faint smile, even though we both knew what their presence meant. Wasting no time, the commandant started speaking to his audience in a serious tone:

"Young men, I called you in today to prepare tomorrow's mission. Our infantry is in a perilous position on the other side of the Channel and needs our help. We need to continue our air-raids against the Luftwaffe which is having fun sinking our vessels and men on their way back home. Tomorrow is a crucial day during which most of the soldiers will be evacuated. You'll have an essential role to play. Help these men come back to their families, keep them alive so they can continue defending our island. I chose you because you're our best representatives. I know your skills and we'll need them. I don't want to lie to you, it's a very dangerous mission. More than ever. The enemy is not afraid of anything, not even to die. I expect the same from you. Show them how strong our nation is!"

He paused for a moment before looking at me.

"Miss Wright, would you bring me the aerial photographs, please?"

I took a deep breath and walked in his direction to give him the documents and disappear as quickly as possible. I was about to return to my desk when he stopped me.

"Please, stay with us my dear, you'll be of some help."

I obeyed and stayed at his side, not knowing why he wanted me there. I felt a bit stupid standing there, in front of the group of soldiers, not knowing what to do. I could not listen properly to what the commandant was saying. I could not help but think that it might be the last time I was seeing Andrew. I was lost in my thoughts, and so my eyes fixed upon him. He was focused, listening to the instructions detailed by the commandant, always so serious, conscientious and determined. He was not a bad person, he was better than everyone I knew. I wanted to remember all of his features in case I would never see him again. His strong jaw, his kissable lips, his straight nose and the dimples on his cheeks, the discreet beauty spot above his upper lip, the way he would squint when observing something, and the wrinkles that would appear between his brows when he was listening attentively. And his amazing blue eyes, as deep as the ocean, in which I had lost myself so many times.

Feeling observed, he turned his head to meet my eyes. They showed no animosity anymore. Anger had been replaced with a heart-warming kindness. We both knew that our arguments were vain then, that we had both acted silly, and I realised it was time for me to follow my heart, even if it might be too late. I had already lost some precious time, a time that we would never retrieve and that I would probably regret for the rest of my life. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I hurried to wipe it away with the back of my hand before anyone could notice, but Andrew had seen it and he seemed to fight the urge to take me in his arms, so I smiled to reassure him. How could I have ever doubted his love when he could express so much by simply looking at me? Unfortunately, this precious moment was broken when the commandant turned to me again.

"Miss Wright, please sums up what has been said this evening, before these young men leave to get some much needed rest."

I agreed and recited the information.

"Johnson, Smith, Brown, take off at 10.15 am. Farrier, Powell, Collins, take off at 2.30 pm," I tried to erase the tremor in my voice. "You'll probably find the enemy before even reaching the French coasts. Be careful not to overestimate your fuel endurance. The objective is not to go to Dunkirk but to eliminate as many German planes as possible. If some incident occurs, do not forget that the enemy must under no circumstances lay hands on one of our undestroyed aircraft. Always make sure to destroy it so it becomes unexploitable for the enemy. Thank you for your attention, gentlemen. Best of luck for tomorrow."

"Perfect, perfect," the commandant thanked me. "You may leave now boys."

All got to their feet and saluted me before leaving the office. Having to say these words had made me feel sick. I had told them to sacrifice their young lives for their country. I had probably sent the man I loved to a certain death.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


It was D-day. I would leave for my most important mission today. We knew that the enemy was close, and we were to show them how Brits fought. I was excited and frightened at the same time. I had already flown several times but the threat had never been so real and big as it was today. I was ready though. Ready to fight and send the German planes to the bottom. Farrier and I had spent the morning in the hangar, making our plane ready, perfecting every detail, and supporting our friends who were leaving before us. Now that they were gone, and that our time was getting closer and closer, the wait seemed to last forever. We were trying to pass the time by playing cards but our attention was turned to what was expecting us above the sea. This one was a big deal compared to what we had already experienced, and I had not had the chance to say goodbye to Freya. I knew she was stuck at work but I would have liked to be able to reassure her before leaving. I couldn't leave without trying to improve things between us and apologising, she deserved better, and the only way for me to do it was to write her a letter. I abandoned Farrier and Powell to their game and went to my bedroom. I closed the door behind me and began to look for some paper on which put the words I wanted to tell her, but I had not even had the time to open a drawer that I heard the click of the lock, signalling that someone had come in after me. I turned around to discover Freya closing the door behind her, her hands tightened around the handle, and her eyes fixed on me. I was not expecting to see her there, but she did not give me a chance to ask her the reason of her presence:

"I couldn't let you go like that," she said quickly. "I don't want to let you go before I've told you what I need to tell you!"

She caught her breath, as if preparing for what she would say next. I approached her, giving her a questioning look to encourage her to go on. She was shaking and all I wanted was to take her in my arms, but she would have probably rejected me.

"I made a mistake Andrew. And even if it's too late, I want you to know that I love you. And I think I've loved you since the first time I saw you, the first time you talked to me. But I forbade myself to, and I hurt you and I'm so sorry. For everything. But I lov—"

I interrupted her, taking possession of her lips in a sweet and tender kiss. No matter what she had planned to say, I had stopped listening when she had told me she loved me. No matter the consequences, I wanted to kiss her and finally prove her how much I loved her. It was the best answer I could give her as no words could express what I felt for her. She refused to leave my lips when I tried to look at her to make sure I was not in a dream, but she eventually let me gaze into her eyes. They were filled with tears but reflected a disarming sincerity. I could finally read her like an open book. I could see all the feelings she had held back for so long, but that she had no reason to hide anymore. I could not get enough of her, her gorgeous face, her dreamy eyes and the love they conveyed. She was holding on to my jacket as if fearing I would leave her one more time, and I stroke her cheek to try to prove her I was with her. She blinked, letting the tears fall, and she resumed the kiss, passionately pressing her lips onto mine. I pushed her softly against the door to imprison her in my embrace and deepen our kiss, carried away by the euphoria I felt, letting my desire finally run free. I had been waiting for this for so long and yet, it was better than everything I had imagined, better than in my dreams. Her hands released my uniform to go through my hair, bringing our bodies closer, and I had to rest my free hand against the door behind her to avoid falling onto her. The touch of her fingers on my skin was electrifying. Her lips tasted like the tea she would drink and she smelt like roses. All these little details I was discovering were the only things that mattered at that moment. Nothing else existed. It was just the two of us. With just one kiss, she had become my entire world.  
After what felt like not being enough, I had to pull away with regret. We looked at each other, out of breath, refusing to put an end to the present moment, but I eventually had to pronounce the sentence that we both feared.

"I've to go."

But none of us dared to move. We had only just started expressing our love to each other that we already had to separate. Resigned, Freya brought her hands to her neck and undid the medal she was wearing. She looked up to me and said:

"Take it with you. It's a swallow. It will bring you back to me. Swallows always come back home."

She carefully placed the jewellery around my neck before kissing me on the cheek. I made sure to slip it under my shirt, already treasuring it.

"I don't have much to give you in exchange," I said. "Only my lucky coin that I've been keeping with me since I was a child. My father gave it to me. It's yours now," I declared, offering it to her but she pushed me back.

"No, I can't take it, you need it more than me!"

"You gave me a lucky charm, I'm giving you mine. Please, I want you to have it," I insisted as I placed it in her hand. She observed it, hesitantly, before pressing it against her chest. I hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head, not wanting to let go of her.

"Promise me to come back," she softly said against my chest.

"I promise," I replied, taking her face in my hands to kiss her lovingly one last time.


	8. We’ll meet again some sunny day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly what happens in Dunkirk, I'm sorry if it gets boring.

At the first opportunity, I had left the military base to seek for Lewis. I had made up my mind and it was now time to let him know about my decision. I would be lying if I said that I was not scared to end things with him. I had no idea how he would react, but I was determined to take the risk for Andrew, because it was him I truly loved.

I went directly to his hotel, pretty sure I would find him there for he was not the kind to take a walk in the countryside to pass the time. I quickly made my way to his room and I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, my heart rushing and making me feel nauseous. I prayed for him not to be there but the door opened, revealing his imposing frame against the light.

"Freya? What are you doing here?" he asked, taken aback.

"I needed to talk to you," I started.

"What's going on? Is it that important? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" he worried.

He moved to the side, inviting me to come in, which I did, and he closed the door behind me.

"No, I'm on my break. And I needed to talk to you right away. Are you alone?"

"Of course I am!" he replied, slightly offended by my question.

He approached me with a smile that he wanted charming; that was charming indeed, but that had no effect on me anymore. His hands searched for my lower back and his lips aimed at mine, but I turned my head away and escaped his touch, taking my distance.

"You're still upset about last time? I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said what I've said."

"I'm not here to talk about that," I stopped him.

I could see on his face that he was anxious to hear what I wanted to say. He sat on his bed and patted the mattress beside him as an invitation to join him, which I declined, not wanting to be too close to him. We had remained silent for a moment, and the atmosphere started to be heavy. I took a deep breath and turned to him, looking straight into his eyes. Today was the day I was being honest. Today was the day my heart would speak for me.

"I've to break up with you, Lewis" I let out.

"What are you talking about?" he asked confusedly.

"I'm leaving you. We can't be together anymore."

"You can't break up with me. We're engaged Freya."

"Oh really? Are we engaged? Where's the ring?" I asked showing him my left hand. "With all the money you have, you couldn't even buy me a ring. You never did anything, you just thought I was yours forever just because you managed to make me fall in love with you. But the problem is I don't love you anymore, because you're not the same anymore." Words came out of my mouth so easily, nothing could stop me.

"But I can make you fall in love with me again if that's the problem. I can be that Lewis again! Give me a chance," he pleaded as he stood up to come to me.

"I can't. And don't lie to yourself, you know as well as I do that there is no love between us anymore. You don't love me Lewis. You don't like the fact that I volunteered. You don't like the fact that I'm independent. You just like the idea of having a fiancée. But you'll find another one."

"But it's you I want, baby! It's always been you and only you!" he took my face in his hands and looked at me with imploring eyes, making my heart soften and my guilt grow stronger.

"You can have better than me."

"We're a beautiful couple! Everybody loves us together, I love us together! Why would you give up on that?"

"Because..." I swallowed the end of my sentence, not wanting to hurt him; but he had to know. I owed him that. "Because I love someone else."

"You love someone else?" he laughed, removing his hands from my body as if burnt by fire.

"I didn't want to lie to you... but it opened my eyes on our relationship."

He had stopped listening to me.

"Who is he?" he asked angrily, clenching his fists.

"You don't know him..."

"Did that son of a bitch ever touched you when we were together?" he raised his voice.

"No," I lied, Andrew's kiss still fresh on my lips.

"Is he a soldier? That you met here?"

"Yes," my eyes started to fill with tears as I felt the shame overwhelm me.

"Why would you go with a soldier when you can be with a man who will always protect you and be there for you? Do you really think that he will survive the war?"

"He might not, but he loves me, and I'm willing to take the risk!"

"You're so naïve Freya... He will leave you all alone, and you'll just have to blame yourself. A fucking soldier..."

"He won't leave me. He's fighting for his country. He's more courageous than you'll ever be!"

"Courage won't help him buy a house and make a living for his family. I've got money, you know it Freya. I can give you anything you want."

"But you don't understand I don't care about money. You don't know me at all! That's a shame!" I said, walking past him to leave the room.

'Oh I know you," he said has he grabbed my arm to prevent me from leaving. "I know you very well and I can tell you'll regret this!"

"You really think highly of yourself..." I snatched my arm away and looked at him with distaste.

"We're not done Freya! I say I don't want us to be over, so we're not. I don't care what you say," he shouted as I walked away. We were done, whatever he might say, I would never go back with him, never. My heart belonged to Andrew now.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


The weather was clear and the sea smooth beneath us. We had been flying over that blue vastness for several minutes already, heading to Dunkirk, and things were about to become serious. A radio call broke the monotony of the engine's purring, a sweet sound that I was so used to now.

"Check fuel, Fortis 1 and 2," our leader ordered.

"Seventy gallons," Farrier replied.

I reached forward to my fuel gauge and pushed the button to read the indications.

"Sixty-eight gallons, Fortis Leader," I added.

"Stay down at five hundred feet to leave fuel for forty minutes fighting time over Dunkirk."

"Understood," I replied, checking my indicators.

"Keep an eye on that gauge, even when it gets lively. Save enough to get back."

That it was about to get lively was a certainty. That we manage to go back to England was not so sure. I glanced at my teammates, both on my left as we were flying in close formation, and I couldn't help but think that we might not all make it home later that day. I could not fight with anyone but Farrier because I trusted him completely, but every time we took off, I thought that one of us could have to go back home alone.

"Dunkirk is so far, why can't they load at Calais," I said, trying to ease the tense atmosphere.

"The enemy had to say something about it," Fortis leader rightly pointed out.

I looked up and scanned the sky above me. The immensity that always felt reassuring to me had become a threat since the beginning of the war. The enemy could come from anywhere.

"Down here we're sitting ducks," I shared my fears. If only we could fly higher without using more fuel...

"Keep them peeled. They'll come out of the sun." And with that last information, Fortis Leader ended the conversation.

Moments later, the enemy was within sight, recognizable from the yellow paint on the nose of the aircraft.

"Bandit, eight o'clock," Farrier announced.

"Break," Fortis Leader replied.

And so, we broke formation, not willing to be easily put down by the Germans, and I turned to the right, flying away from my two friends. Just as I straightened up the aircraft, and checked the rear-view mirror, I caught view of a German after me.

"He's on me," I announced, trying to keep my nerves.

"I'm on him," James immediately let me know.

The fight had started without giving me time to think about it. Adrenaline was doing its job, I was not afraid, and in full command of my faculties. I had to focus so that the enemy could not have the chance to fire bullets at me. The purpose was always to be out of his gun sights, and I was good at it. I dived, rolled from one way to the other, but the 109 was still behind me when I glanced back.

"On my mark, draw him left, Fortis 2," Farrier's voice reminded me that he was there to help me. I tightened my grip on the stick. "Three... Two... One... Mark."

I pulled hard to the left, forcing the 109 to follow me, placing it right before James's gun sights. I heard the firing and looked back, not able to see anything.

"Clear."

"Is he down?" I asked.

"Down for the count." Farrier had succeeded, and I felt a slight sensation of relief.

I heard another strike of bullets as another 109 streaked away, but it was not aimed at me this time.

"Fortis Leader, one bandit down," Farrier informed our wing mate.

But nobody answered.

"Fortis leader, do you read?"

No response.

"Fortis 2, I've you to port," James let me know as I placed my plane on his left. "No eyes on Fortis leader. Over."

"Understood Fortis 1. Orbit for a look..." I replied.

We checked the sky and sea, looking for Powell, but he was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Farrier informed me that he had glimpsed the wreckage of a spitfire floating on the surface.

"Do you think he got out?" I asked, with a bit of hope.

"Didn't see a chute..." he replied.

Completely aware of what it meant and of the fact that nothing could be done for our teammate, we resumed our journey to Dunkirk.

"Fortis 2, what's your fuel?" Farrier questioned.

I checked my gauge and replied, "Fifty gallons. Over."

Why was he asking me such question? Was it typical James being a big brother, making sure I was keeping an eye on my fuel gauge?

"Keep letting me know. My gauge took a knock back there," he added.

"Should you turn back?" I worried. I did not want him to crash because of that, or for me to carry out that mission on my own...

"I'm confident it's just the gauge."

So, we remained together, ripping through the air, going higher to take advantage upon the enemy, even if that meant we had to use more fuel.

It did not take long for the enemy to appear again. I spotted a bomber underneath, approaching a vessel full of soldiers, and quickly informed Farrier.

"Heinkel, eleven o'clock, lining up to drop her load on that minesweeper."

"Fighters?" he asked in return.

I peered down, looking for the bomber's fighter escort.

"109s, on her starboard," I said when I spotted the planes.

"I'm on the bomber."

And so, I had to deal with the fighters. It was time I took revenge, for this time I was the one taking them by surprise. I dived onto the German fighters, firing at one until I saw smoke trailing. At the same time, the bomber changed direction, sparing the vessel.

"She's turning. You must have damaged her." I pointed out.

"Where's the escort?" James asked.

"I've got one of—" I was cut in the middle of my sentence by bullets hitting my cabin. The second German fighter was on me. I internally prayed that my plane had resisted the attack, and tried to maintain altitude, but quickly, smoke and flames came out of the fuselage. Those bloody Germans had put an end to my mission. I could not control my plane anymore, drawing closer to the sea.

"I'm going down!" I informed Farrier. It was just him from now on.

"I'm on him. Bail out!' he said while already taking care of the enemy.

Resigned, I checked my parachute, slid the top of my cabin open and looked around. The sea was smooth, so I changed my mind and decided to land in the water. There was no real danger I thought.

"The swell looks good. I'm ditching," I said. I checked my altimeter, my belt, everything to ensure my safety.

"Good luck. Watch your fuel. Forty gallons," I let him know one last time.

I could hear James wish me good luck and I cut off radio contact, focusing on my hazardous landing. The surface came dangerously close, but I knew how to manage that. At the last minute, just before hitting water, I pulled the stick to lift the nose of my plane and it crashed onto the sea with a loud noise, but I was alive and floating. I released my belt and started inflating my life vest. Never thought I would have to use that thing one day. I relieved myself of my harness to open the canopy and get out of the spitfire, but it seemed to be stuck and only moved by a few centimetres. I tried to force it open, unsuccessfully, and so, panic crept over me. I slipped my arm through the opening and waved at Farrier, trying to catch his attention but he did not see me.

I realised water was quickly flooding in the cabin, so I tried again but the canopy jammed. I did not know how to get away from this mess, and looked around for inspiration, anything that could help me, save my life. In a final attempt, I grabbed my flare gun and started hitting the window above me to break it. Water was now at my waist. I smashed the gun at the canopy, again and again, without any result. I used all my strength, groaning in the effort, but it resisted. I was trapped in my plane. The very thing around which my life had always revolved was now my worst nightmare. If only I had listened to Farrier instead of ditching...

Water was rising to my shoulder, then my neck and finally my ears, forcing me to push my face up against the canopy to seek for air. Why was I being so weak? Why now? Why would I have to die so stupidly? I furiously banged on the glass, not willing to give up, holding my breath for the cockpit was now completely filled with water. My plane was sinking more and more into the sea, dragging me down with it. The end seemed unavoidable. I was to die there, in the middle of the sea, and my last thoughts were for Freya, and how I had failed to keep my promise to her.


	9. Come back home

I wasn't able to focus on my work anymore. All I could think about was Andrew and the danger he was facing at the moment. Fearing for his life, I had done that for months, but my fear had doubled since he had given me a taste of what life by his side would be. I hoped he was safe and coming back to me, but the day was slowly coming to an end, and the pilots hadn't returned yet. All the men who had left in the morning had made it home safe and I was hoping it would be the same for those who had left in the afternoon, but they had been gone for more than two hours now and it did not look good. Their planes couldn't have enough fuel to fly for so long. I refused to face the truth and kept on telling myself that Andrew would come back to me, no matter what. There was no other possibility because I couldn't live without him. We had so much more things to live together. I needed him to hold me in his arms, and to kiss me again. I needed to meet his bright eyes every day and to see in them how much he loved me. So, he had to come back.

I looked at the group of pilots gathered at the centre of the room, around the table where Andrew used to be. They were talking about their mission of the morning with much seriousness. The pilots who had survived were describing what they had seen while fighting and I listened carefully.

"It was a mess guys. German planes were everywhere, bombing all the vessels they could see."

"Yeah, I saw men jump into the sea, trying to flee their sinking ships. And then those fucking Nazis were shooting them like pigeons. Those guys had no chance to survive."

"What about Dunkirk? How is it there?" one enquired.

"We didn't reach Dunkirk. Too many enemies on our way there. But we did see it from afar. Well, we saw a great cloud of smoke rising over the horizon..."

"A hell it must be there. We're quite lucky to be safe, mate."

"For sure we are."

At their face, I could see that they were not exaggerating. And I feared for Andrew's life even more. The anxiety I had tried to control was growing stronger and stronger, making me feel like someone was sitting on my chest and preventing me from breathing properly.

"How were German planes?"

"Aggressive, like, they were coming from nowhere. Thank God they weren't good enough to put us down."

"What about the second team? Why aren't they back yet?"

"Don't know. But according to me, it looks pretty bad. They should be back already."

"The three of them can't be down. Not the three of them, it's too much!"

"I know, they're the best of us. But it's war, mate. You never know what can happen..."

"Fuck, I can't believe that. Farrier is so experienced; the man can kill ten planes by himself. And Collins, sure he's young but he's skilled! Can beat the enemy easily, he's fast as hell... I can't believe we must have lost them."

Having heard enough, I stood up abruptly at their last sentence, causing my chair to fall on the ground. They all looked at me, remembering I had been there the whole time.

"What are you talking about?" I said with a trembling voice. "They're going to come back. It's not too late."

Johnson moved carefully towards me while the others looked at me with what appeared as compassion.

"Freya... It's been almost three hours now."

"And what?" I asked even if I already knew what he meant.

"They're probably not coming back. Collins is not coming back."

He wanted me to face reality now, but reality was painful. Too painful.

"I believe he's still alive. I can feel it," I let out in a murmur. I needed him to tell me I was right and he was wrong.

"Freya... We know how much you care about him. But you've to be prepared in case he doesn't make it home," he stated, his voice full of sympathy, rubbing my shoulder to give me some comfort.

I knew he was right, but admitting such possibility was too much pain for me to handle. I couldn't accept that I had lost him so soon, that I would never see him again. I couldn't bear to know Lewis had been right about that. I felt like I was about to explode and I left them and their pity to run away from that office. I could hear them call my name as I was running through the corridor, heading to the hangar where Andrew used to spend most of his time, as if he would be there, waiting for me. But it was empty. His plane was missing, like that of Farrier, and Powell. The huge doors were opened, and the runway was there, leading to that infinite darkening sky. I stopped at the edge of the hangar, looking in the distance, hoping to see his plane appear among the clouds, but the sky remained immaculate and the pain didn't disappear.

*****

Just when I was about to release the remaining air from my lungs, as acceptance of my fate, looking one last time at the sky, I saw something crash onto the glass, shattering it. Before I could understand what was happening, I was swimming out of the plane and reaching the surface, gasping for air. I removed the hair from my face to discover a civilian boat before me. A young blond lad was looking at me, holding a boathook, the very object that had served to save me.

"Afternoon," I greeted him, not knowing what else to say.

I swam towards the boat, breathless, and reached for the hand the lad was offering me. He hauled me on board and I touched the deck with a sigh of relief, leaving that nightmare of water behind me. Air was my element, not this, else I would have joined the navy. I politely accepted the blanket and cup of tea that were given to me, and sat at the back of the boat to observe the other people on board. A shivering soldier, who seemed to have been pulled out of the sea just like me, was looking at me with mistrust, but the man seemed quite shocked, so I preferred not to take it personally. The captain of the boat was a grizzled man, very cordial and humble. He immediately made me feel at ease, not judging the fact that I had ended up in the sea when I had to be up there with my teammate. I looked up but could not see Farrier anymore, he had probably moved forward.

The boy with the boathook was younger than me. His name was Peter, he had told me. We talked a bit after that, of the war mostly, and of our fellows fighting on the continent. At some point, he asked me to follow him below the deck to check on his friend, George, who had had an accident, but I could not help him for I had no skills in the field of medicine, and it did not look good anyway. I tried to hide the truth to Peter, because it was not the time to alert him. Not when we were in the middle of the sea, with no one to save his friend. We went back on deck after that. The shivering soldier asked us about George's condition, and considering the look and answer Peter gave him, I knew he had something to do with it, but it was none of my business and my attention was quickly drawn to the sound of a bomber in the distance. The devilish aircraft was dropping its bombs on a vessel not far. I could not believe it was happening right before my eyes and I was helpless. I could not do anything standing there. Without my plane, I was powerless. Useless.

But the sweet sound of a friendly engine revived my hope. I recognised Farrier's spitfire in the sky, just behind the bomber. That was a perilous move since he was all alone against the Germans, but my best mate was a very skilled pilot, one of the best, he could do it.

"Come on Farrier!" I uttered between my teeth. My eyes followed him the whole time, supporting him as he skilfully chased the enemy. Fire was heard, and smoke came out of the bomber. From where I was standing, I knew exactly which move Farrier would do next. It was as if I was there, flying with him, giving him the instructions because every time I thought about something, he would do it right after. Teammate we were, even when separated.

I had to leave James when the boat came up to soldiers in the water. I went to the side to help Peter get men on board, grabbing their desperate hands looking for a life-saving contact. My eyes froze on the black stains that remained on my uniform, where one of the soldiers had clung to me. I looked at the surface of the sea, my fears being confirmed by what I discovered. Water had turned into a dark sticky thing. Soldiers were swimming in oil, trying to flee a certain death. That oil was a real danger and I was the only person to realise that, because I was the only one to make the connection with the planes fighting above our heads. I had to take action there, we could not lose our boat, we had to go home.

I moved to the side, looking for Peter's father.

"Oil. We're getting into oil!" I shouted for him to hear me.

He stopped the engine, and even if he seemed to know perfectly what he was doing, I could not help thinking we were playing with fire. I helped other men on board, keeping an eye on the planes and on that black curse floating in the sea. Death was closer than we thought. The small boat was quickly crowded with men in brown uniforms, all the same, anonymous under their mask of oil, only their eyes piercing out, as a proof that they were still humans. I looked up to the sky, still encouraging James, holding my breath. I could not care less about the questioning look addressed to me, my main focus being on the duel happening above us. Firing made my heart clench and fear took me when I saw the bomber catch fire and fatally drop to the sea.

"Go! Go! Go!" I yelled to Mr Dawson.

The aircraft crashed into the sea, oily water immediately burning at its contact, flames going up into the sky. Haunting screams could be heard from the doomed soldiers that had not got out of the oil fast enough. Screams that seemed to get into the bottom of my soul, making me feel guilty. Guilty of being alive. Guilty of being on that boat instead of fighting next to Farrier.

My eyes left that horrendous scene to scan the water surrounding us. It was now clear, free of any danger. I sat at the back of the boat again to process what had happened, but this time, the shivering soldier was not the one observing me. Several pairs of eyes were looking at me with anger, some focusing on the insignia on my uniform, which was poking out from under my life jacket. I perfectly knew what they thought. I had done nothing to save them. I had given up on them. I had failed. They were probably right, for most of it. I decided to ignore them, mostly by cowardice, or respect, I did not know, but their burning looks made me so uneasy I decided to join Mr Dawson in his cabin, for at least he knew what had happened to me.

Just as everybody had started to relax, we heard a distant engine coming our way. I immediately recognised a ME 109.

"That's a fighter," I thought I should inform Mr Dawson, but the man ended my sentence with his own knowledge.

"ME 109, from the South. Peter, take the wheel, listen for my instructions," he said.

He left the cabin, making his way to the deck to observe the sky. Peter followed his instructions carefully, not questioning his father's authority. He trusted him, and so did I. A man who could recognise the sound of an enemy aircraft could be trusted. I observed the ME 109 coming closer to its target, our boat. I could not get my eyes off the menacing airplane that was approaching like a threat upon us. If I had to die now, I'd rather look death in the eye, like a true soldier. I was not afraid.

The 109 slightly lowered its nose and I knew it would happen. I prepared for it to open fire, took a deep breath and stood up straight, and then I heard him, Mr Dawson, shouting instructions at his son.

"NOW!"

Peter threw the wheel and the boat deported from the aircraft's range, avoiding the bullets aimed at us. Mr Dawson had succeeded.

I followed the German plane for a bit, fearing he would turn back, but it did not.

"He's off," I informed them.

"Bigger fish to fry," the grizzled man replied.

I looked at him with curiosity, surprised by his knowledge concerning aviation.

"How'd you know all that, anyway?" I asked him.

Something in his eyes had changed.

"My son's one of you lot. I knew he'd see us through," he said calmly.

I turned to Peter, not understanding why he hadn't told me that before.

"You're RAF?"

"Not me. My brother. Flew Hurricanes. He died third week into war," the lad told me, his eyes fixed on his father.

And so, I understood everything. Mr Dawson and Peter leaving for Dunkirk. The man's knowledge on planes. Peter not being at war. I understood why they came to my Spitfire to save me and why they did not judge me on what had happened. They knew how it was to fight in the air. The man in front of me was a proud father, and a hurt one. And still, after losing his own child, he was there, willing to save as many soldiers as possible, the children of others. I was forced to think about my father and how he must have felt when I had left for Duxford, how he must have been scared each time he hadn't received news from me to be sure I was alive. But thanks to Mr Dawson, my father still had his only son, and I was so very grateful for that.

The rest of the journey home was really quiet, most of the soldiers were sleeping, but I could not. My eyes were fixed on the white cliffs in the distance. Home. It was nothing like my native Scotland, yet, it was beautiful and I knew I would never experience such feeling again in my life. There was something sublime in them, from the way they were standing there, immaculate, breath-taking, but also imposing and threatening, like a fortification protecting our land from the enemies.


	10. All that mattered was you

It was already dark when we docked in the harbour of a small fishermen town. Soldiers were silently climbing out of the boat, too exhausted to express their relief to finally be at home. I was waiting on the landing, wanting to thank Mr Dawson before leaving for the station. The man had saved my life and I couldn't help but see him as a father figure. What he had done for me was something I would never forget. I took off my life vest which was now useless and stared blankly at the soldiers passing by when one suddenly spat his anger in my face.

"Where the hell were you!"

Once again, I said nothing, knowing that his comment was aimed to the entire RAF I embodied, not just me. What could I say anyway; what could I do apart from pretending his reproach did not affect me?

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to be faced by Mr Dawson.

"They know where you were," he said, nodding towards the soldiers that were on the boat.

With that, he put his hat on, shook my hand and left, followed by his son, and I hoped he had seen in my eyes how thankful I was for having crossed his path. I remained still for a moment, not really knowing what to do next. My eyes landed on the stern of the boat I was on earlier, where black letters standing out from the white paint, formed a meaningful name. _'Moonstone_.'

"It keeps an eye on us." I remembered Freya's words, those she had told me several weeks before on that trailer when talking about the moon. She was right, I thought to myself. Even if it was just a coincidence, it warmed my heart to think that there were signs everywhere in the world to remind me of her, that there was more than this war.

I finally decided to leave the landing and follow the flow of soldiers to the station, hoping I would be able to find a train for London there. Civilians were offering us tea, food and blankets on our way there, showing solidarity and gratitude. I just took a blanket that I knew would be useful to find some rest in the train, for my uniform was still wet, and I headed to the platform.

"London! Platform 1!" I heard a man shout. "This train is for London, please get on."

I boarded the train and made my way through the half-crowded coach, looking for a place where to sit. I spotted empty seats and dropped onto the one next to the window. I placed the folded blanket on the table in front of me, wrapped my arms around it and rested my head on top. I closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible, but it was very noisy with all the soldiers talking and moving around. Exhausted, I left the blanket to lean against the window, waiting for the train's departure. I moved my hands to my neck to check if the chain was still there, under my shirt, and I took it out of its hiding place to observe it. The metal was warm against my palm, heated by my body, even if I felt cold. Was it a lucky charm? I had no idea, but I was sure it had something to do with me being alive. I closed my eyes again, but this time, my mind was full of images of Freya. Of her sparkly eyes, her shy smile, her delicate hands. I remembered our kiss earlier that day. The way she had looked at me and touched me. The tears on her cheeks, of both happiness and fear. I hoped she was not crying right now. I hoped she was not sad and frightened because of me not being back yet; that she was not assuming the worst had happened to me.

Voices pulled me from my thoughts, and I opened my eyes to see some soldiers looking at the free seats next to me.

"I'm not sitting next to a fuckin' RAF pilot," one said, looking at me with disgust. "I don't even know what he's doing here, he was not even fighting to protect us in Dunkirk."

"The fuckin' RAF pilot was fighting German planes over the Channel to prevent them from sinking vessels full of men like you, if you wanna know. And the fuckin' RAF pilot that I am doesn't give a fuck if you like it or not," I replied, fed up with being accused of not having done anything.

"Watch your mouth, you fuckin' rat! I can't believe you're coming home to your family when real men died on that bloody beach 'cause you didn't show up."

I was about to insult him when a voice on the other side of the aisle cut me short.

"He showed up. It's not 'cause you didn't see him that he wasn't there. We saw him. He's not your enemy, so now move on, some of us would like to sleep."

I looked at the young man who had uttered these words and recognised him from the Moonstone. He was one I had got out of the oily sea. His bright eyes briefly met mine as I tried to express my gratitude, before he looked away and tried to sleep again.

The group of angry soldiers had left, and two other soldiers had sat in front of me. The train finally left the station and I went back to my thoughts, trying to imagine how the reunion with my girl would be, but before I could even picture her face, I had fallen asleep, rocked by the movement of the train on the railway.

I woke up hours later in a coach bathed with sunshine, making it hard for me to open my eyes. I struggled until they adapted to the light and then I distinguished the landscapes typical of the English countryside; farms and fields for as far as the eye could see. The young soldier had somehow managed to get a newspaper which he was reading to his friend. I was not the kind to listen to people's conversation but it was about Dunkirk's evacuation, so I kept my ears open.

"Wars are not won by evacuation."

He read hesitantly as the train pulled in a small station, a lot of people coming into view on the other side of the window. I observed this astonishing spectacle of British citizens praising their soldiers for having survived and offering them beer and bread. I couldn't help but smile warmly at that. Men and women, young and old, had gathered on the platform to welcome us home, and it was just what we all needed.

"But there was a victory inside this deliverance which should be noted..." the young man continued, his friend accepting bottles of beer from an old man.

"Our thankfulness at the escape of our army must not blind us to the fact that what has happened in France and Belgium is a colossal military disaster, and we must expect another blow to be struck immediately."

"We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France. We shall fight on the seas and oceans. We shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our island..." his voice got louder as the cheering of the crowd filled the coach, making me shiver.

"We shall defend our island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields and the streets. We shall fight in the hills, we shall never surrender."

We were all listening to him now, waiting for the end.

"And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it was subjugated and starving, then our empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British fleet, would carry on the struggle until, in God's good time, a New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old."

These words from Churchill spoke to all of us, reviving our hope, strength and fighting spirit. I was willing to continue doing my best for my country, fighting with confidence and pride to defeat the enemy. Our island would never be defeated. We would never surrender.

*****

When some people at the base had been asked to go to London to help welcome the survivors from Dunkirk, I had jumped on the coach without hesitation. I was not very good at waiting, even more when the man I loved was missing, so I preferred to busy myself and help others the best I could rather than wallow in sadness under my blanket. I was back in my hometown and what I had discovered there had left me speechless. So many soldiers, so many souls, coming back, physically and mentally wounded. Blank stares, expressionless faces, weary bodies. It was war I was witnessing before my eyes, and its atrocious impact on human beings. But I had had no time to think about that, I was there to be useful. 

I had left my uniform in Duxford, just wanting to melt into the masses, but most of the helpers there were known faces from my London life and neighbours had easily recognised me. In no time, they had fetched my father and I had been lucky enough to see him again. I had explained everything, answered his unasked questions about my presence at the station, my sad red eyes, my non-existent smile. I had told him everything about the last weeks away from him, about my work, about Lewis and Andrew, mostly Andrew. My loving father had said nothing wrong. He had hugged me and listened carefully the whole time. He had understood and comforted me the best he could. He had then left me at my task, after we had agreed that I would join him at home the next day, for lunch. The rest of the day had just been extremely busy, but I did not complain, for it prevented me from thinking too much about Andrew.

I had been told to collect as many names as possible from the soldiers arriving in London in order to inform their families that they had been evacuated. I was standing in the way with my sheets of paper, asking soldiers stopping in front of me to give me their names before leaving the station. I had been doing this the whole night when another girl went to take over. I was exhausted, but rest did not even appear as an option, for I had to stay in case Andrew would show up. Chances were very low, nonetheless, I wanted to do all I could to find him. I was sure he was alive.

The station became quiet as the stream of soldiers had dried up, leaving the platforms almost empty again. The train left, to go fetch more soldiers, and I sat on a bench, waiting for the next train to arrive. I wrapped my coat around me and buried my face into my collar. The night had been chilly and the rising sun had not yet warmed the air on that foggy morning. I did not want to go home; by staying there, I had the feeling I had somehow control over things, even though it was only an illusion. I felt my eyes close as sleep took possession of me, not able to fight it anymore. I was later woken up by the screeching sound of the break of a train entering the station. I quickly got up as the doors of the coaches opened, letting the first soldiers get out. The platform was soon buzzing with people, turning into a mass of identical brown figures. I was submerged by such crowd, pushed from every side, so I climbed on the bench, my safe island in the middle of that torrent of men. 

From where I stood, I could see the whole platform and I started to seek for blond hair and a blue uniform. My eyes scanned the crowd, from right to left, from front to back, looking at the coaches, the windows, everywhere. All of the soldiers seemed so weary, as if returning from hell, but some seemed so happy and relieved to be back, confirming that Dunkirk might have been some horrible place for them. On several occasions, I spotted blond hair among the darker heads, causing my heart to race, but every time I met the eyes of their owners, they were never the ones I was looking for. Most of the soldiers had already come out but no RAF uniform had been spotted yet. I was about to lose hope when something caught my eyes. A spot of colour among the dark figures, a blue uniform standing out, erasing the rest of the world. He was there. I instantly recognised him, my Andrew. I jumped from the bench and walked towards him, elbowing my way through the crowd, fighting not to be carried away. The tears I had held for so long came out as the tension I had felt finally vanished. I pushed the men from my way, probably looking like a mad woman, but then he was there, in front of me.

"Andrew!", I said with a sob.

His eyes raised to me, his beautiful sad eyes, and he stopped, his mouth agape in astonishment at seeing me there. I ran to him and hugged him, wanting to feel him under my hands. His arms wrapped around me, hesitant at first, but they quickly tightened into a welcoming embrace. He moved his head back, looking at me for a second, before crashing his lips onto mines. I closed my eyes, cutting myself from the world around me, entirely giving myself to my soldier. His sweet lips tasted like salt, and he smelt like the sea. The kiss felt like a resurgence after a long day of fear, none of us willing to break away and to lose such feeling. He had beaten the odds and proved his time had not yet come. He had given us the reunion we deserved. I was brought back to reality when I heard the soldiers around cheer and whistle at us. Andrew smiled against my lips before giving me one last tender kiss and pulling away.

"Good morning, love."

I wiped the tears away from my cheeks, and chuckled at his charming tone.

"I knew you would come back," I said, still not believing he was standing in front of me.

"Of course, I'm back! I had your necklace, how could it be otherwise?"

He took my hand in his, naturally entangling his fingers with mine and we both headed outside the station. This simple gesture made my heart race, but I tried not to let it show.

"You must be exhausted. Let's go to my place and I'll cook you something while you rest."

Andrew agreed and we both walked through the quiet streets of London. Most of the Londoners were at work at that time of the day and it felt like the world was ours for a moment. I was so relieved to have him back that I wrapped my arms around his and rested my head on his shoulder as we slowly made our way on the pavement. Andrew affectionately kissed me on the forehead, making a passer-by smile at us. I bet everyone could see how happy we were to be reunited, and I was not trying to hide it anyway.

*****

She stopped in front of a two-floor terraced-house made of bricks and looked at me.

"That's it. This is where I live."

She seemed happy to bring me to her place but I felt uncomfortable knowing that I was about to enter the house where her father was living too. She climbed the stairs, but I did not move. What if her father did not like me? What if he hated me for taking her daughter away from her previous boyfriend? Did he already know she was not with him anymore? Did he know about my existence?

Freya turned to me as I was not following her. Her soft smile managed to comfort me.

"Don't worry. My father's not there. He's at work for the day," she said, slightly laughing.

I sighed in relief. She knew exactly how I felt even if I had not said a word.

"It feels wrong to be here without him knowing about it," I said quietly.

"It's not wrong because he knows I'm dating you. I told him everything. And he knows I need to take care of you."

"You told him?" I asked, surprised.

"I had to. He's my father. Don't worry, okay?"

I nodded, and some of my anxiety disappeared at the thought that Freya's father had not forbidden her to see me.

I climbed the stairs and followed her into the house. It was not big, but it was enough for two. She showed me around the living room and the small kitchen. There, she offered me a glass of water which I declined. I did not need anything else but to be with her. Watching her getting busy in the kitchen, I realised how lucky I was to be able to witness those little things of the everyday life. I realised how much I wanted to spend my life with her and grow old by her side. I could perfectly picture how it would be, just the two of us in our own place, and when she was finally done with her task, I moved closer to her and wrapped my arms around her frame, pressing my chest to her back. She tensed at the contact of my body against hers, surprised by my move, but she quickly relaxed into my embrace and turned to me, planting her eyes into mine. I guess she could see the vulnerability in them as she softly murmured, "It's okay. We're together now. We'll always be together."

I tightened my grasp around her waist as she responded to my embrace, and I buried my face into her neck, holding back my tears. I was alive and I felt at home with her by my side.

She allowed me to stay like that for a moment, before she suddenly made a step back to look at me with an expression of confusion.

"God, Andrew! Did you walk in the rain? Why are you clothes completely damp? You're going to be sick!"

I smiled at the view of the stains that had appeared on her blouse too.

"You need to change. Come with me," she declared, grabbing my hand and leading me upstairs. We entered a small room bathed in sunshine. The white walls were covered with pictures from magazines. A double bed placed in a corner was taking most of the space available but the fluffy duvet and cushions displayed on it made the whole thing very cosy. Books had been placed in every unoccupied space, somehow reminding me of my father's bookshop.

"So, this is your bedroom..." I observed, fascinated by how every aspect of it reflected her personality.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked in all innocence.

"Well. The books betrayed you," I joked, making my way to the window next to the bed to look at the view, which was just a bunch of small gardens lined up at the back of similar houses.

"Make yourself at ease. I'm going to look for dry clothes so you can change."

She left the room and I sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing what else to do. I let my eyes wander on the walls and I observed every detail of the decoration she had chosen. The pictures of movie stars, the dried flowers, the candles on the bedside table and the pile of books. She seemed to have read Pride & Prejudice recently and I was not surprised. She could have been one of Jane Austen's heroines. A frame next to the book caught my attention and I grabbed it to take a close look at it. It was a photograph of a woman standing in front of rose bushes. She looked just like Freya. Same smile, same eyes. Same freckles.

"That's my mother."

Freya's voice startled me a little for I did not know she was already back. She was looking at me with tenderness, holding a pile of clothes in her arms.

"I can see that. Now I know where your beauty comes from. She was a really beautiful woman," I said, knowing how much Freya missed her in her life.

"Thank you. I'm sure she would have liked you."

She put the clothes down next to me and added:

"That's some of my dad's old things. He won't mind you having it."

"Thank you," I expressed, a bit unsettled by the fact that even though this whole situation was new, I did not have to think about how to behave with her as everything appeared as an evidence; but it was not for her, for she quickly turned away to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Downstairs, to give you some privacy."

"I don't need privacy," I replied with a grin. "Besides, it's not the first time I have to change in front of you."

I made her blush, which was something truly adorable about her.

"You don't have to look at my amazing body this time, but please, stay with me."

She rolled her eyes at my joke before burying her face in her hands, probably remembering how I had caught her red-handed a few days before.

"I'm kidding, love. You don't have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable," I reassured her.

"It's not that. It's just... I don't usually bring men to my house, let alone invite them into my bedroom. I don't really know how to behave," she admitted.

"Well, I'm honoured to be your first guest, but I'm not expecting anything from you, okay? Just be yourself. You don't have to do anything else."

She nodded and sat at her desk, trying to focus her attention on one of the magazines she had left there, but she could not help glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

I did not wait longer and took off my jacket and my tie, before I began to unbutton my shirt. I felt like I could finally breathe again, the soldier part of me disappearing at the back of my mind for a moment. I was about to slip the clean shirt on when Freya's voice stopped me.

"Oh my God, Andrew! What happened?"

She had left her chair in a hurry to come to me. I felt her fingers softly graze my skin as her eyes began to fill with tears. I discovered the reason of her concern when I saw the bruises on my chest, and I tried to reassure her as much as I could.

"It's nothing babe. It doesn't hurt. It's nothing," I lied. Of course, it hurt, but I had forgotten about the pain for I was too happy to be alive.

"Who did that to you?" she asked.

"Nobody. I'm pretty sure it's just the harness of my plane. It must be because of the impact when I hit the surface of the sea. I..."

"What?" she cut me off. "What impact?" She was panicking and I hated myself for having mentioned the crash. What was so evident to me was not to her, and her question earlier in the kitchen should have warned me.

"I had to ditch. I was shot down by a German plane," I said quietly, as I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. "But babe, I'm here. I'm fine. I promised I would come back to you and I did," I made her sit on my lap and hugged her. "You've nothing to worry about, love. I'm here."

She impulsively pressed her lips against mine before looking into my eyes. Her love and concern warmed my heart.

"I can't live without you," she whispered.

And I was the one who resumed the kiss. Our lips met passionately as she moved her body to face me, wrapping her legs around my waist. I could feel her hands caress my chest. They moved to my neck and ended in my hair, intensifying the way she expressed her feelings. Our breathing became heavy as the temperature of the room increased. She knew how to surprise me, how to make me feel desired, arousing something in me I would not be able to stop. I unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her silk slips, then left her lips to trace ardent kisses along her neck, reaching her soft spot, and I heard her moan with pleasure. She was killing me. I let my hands explore her body, so eager to discover more of her. More and more intoxicated with the softness of her skin, I moved my lips to meet her shoulder as I removed the strap of her underwear.

"Andrew," she moaned. "We can't do that."

I stopped reluctantly, giving her a questioning look.

"It's wrong," she added.

"Why?" I asked.

"We're not married."

"Who cares? We love each other, that's what matters," I kissed her to back my words. "War is wrong and we do it nonetheless. We're at war. Everything is wrong," I said.

She looked deeply into my eyes and I feared I had said too much. "But this feels right," she added before removing her underwear. My eyes widened and my body froze when I realised she was half-naked on top of me. She was gorgeous, more gorgeous than I had ever imagined, more than I deserved. I couldn't believe she was mine. I brushed her cheek from my fingertips, as if to be sure she was real. She shivered under my touch, the hair on her arms standing up straight as she was probably predicting what was next.

"Are you sure?" I asked one last time.

She nodded, and grabbed the chains hanging around my neck to pull me closer.

"I am," she answered before kissing me with confidence.

And that's all I wanted to hear. I felt her smile into our kiss as I lay her down on the mattress. She was mine. She was mine and I was hers. 


	11. Blissful day

I opened my eyes shortly before noon and realised we had both fallen asleep in my bed. I could feel Andrew's arm resting on my waist and his warm body next to me. It was not a dream, the joy I felt was real. He was real. He looked very peaceful and sound asleep, lying on his stomach, his head buried in the pillow. I could look at him for hours. All of his innocence was there. No more uniform. No more planes. No more fighting. He was just a regular twenty-five-year-old man whom I loved very much. I smiled at the thought that I could now call him my boyfriend, and my boyfriend was lying naked in my bedsheets. I would have never thought that such a thing would happen so soon, but in my heart, I knew we had done nothing wrong. I knew it when looking at him.

I intended to get up, carefully removing Andrew's arm from my body, trying not to wake him up, but he was too exhausted to care. He grumbled softly but did not move an inch. I kissed his salty cheek and got out of bed. I collected my clothes that had ended up on the floor and began to dress up. It took me some time to find my skirt but I managed to be presentable again in case my father decided to come back home. I had been reckless enough already.

I wrote a note to Andrew to let him know that he was free to go take a shower if he woke up while I was downstairs. I put the piece of paper on the bedside table and looked at my soldier one more time. I noticed that he had tensed in his sleep and that his body was now twitching, but I assumed he was dreaming, so I decided to leave the room to let him rest. I had only just reached the end of the staircase when I heard him groan and shout, and I knew that it was not just a regular dream. I hurried to my bedroom to find him sitting in my bed, panting, with a distressed look on his face. It worried me to see him like that, so I sat on the edge of the mattress, feeling like I had to do something to ease him, but scared that I would trigger something worse. Helpless, I carefully stroke his arm to bring him back to me. Fear had filled his eyes when he turned to me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I was there again."

I did not ask any questions. I had to let him speak, I had to listen and not put pressure on him.

"I was stuck in my plane again and I couldn't open the canopy. It wouldn't slide open and water was flooding in. I couldn't breathe. I was stuck. I couldn't breathe and I was thinking of you and how I was going to die in the middle of the sea. And this time nobody came to save me. I was going to die, Freya."

I took him into my arms to stop him from shaking and I stroke his back to comfort him.

"It's over. It was just a nightmare. You came back. You're safe now. You're with me," I whispered.

"I really thought I would die there. That I would never see you again..."

"It looks like God wanted to give us a chance."

He finally relaxed and apologised one more time.

I wanted to protect him from all of this. He hadn't fight much but was already traumatised by the experience, and considering the situation, the experience was not ready to be over yet. I prayed for him not to lose his innocence in the war for he still had so many things to live and love. He had a joyful soul that he had to protect.

We were just children engaged into something too big, too frightening, too overwhelming for us. I was relying on him just as much as he was relying on me. I was his lighthouse, guiding him back home. He was my ray of sunshine, piercing through the clouds, and I couldn't lose him.

Once I knew Andrew had recovered from his nightmare, I got up and told him he could take a bath while I was preparing lunch. I collected the clothes he had not used yet and brought them to the bathroom. I opened the tap and adjusted the temperature of the water, wanting him to relax and feel as comfortable as possible. I turned to him when he entered the room but quickly looked away with embarrassment when I realised he was only in his underwear. It was not something I despised, but I was still not used to seeing him in such apparel, even if we had technically been way more intimate hours before. Andrew chuckled at my reaction. He came to my side and took me in his arms.

"Thank you for this," he said, referring to the bathtub which was slowly being filled with water. He was tenderly looking at me and I gave him a warm smile to let him know that it was my pleasure to take care of him.

"You should go now 'cause I'm going to be naked and I wouldn't like you to be embarrassed again," he teased me. I gave him a quick peck and left the room, laughing.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I was putting the pie in the oven when Andrew entered the kitchen. He looked much better, rested and happy. It was nice to see him in something other than his RAF uniform. I had a new Andrew in front of me, and I fell in love with him one more time. I felt his hand around my hip as he pulled me closer to kiss the top of my head, always having a nice attention for me. I was not used to receiving so many displays of affection, but it felt like how it was always supposed to be.

"What's smelling so good?" he asked, not getting his hand off me.

"Made a pie for my pilot. With potatoes and some meat."

"Your pilot?" he smiled. "I like the sound of it."

I blushed, realising I had let the words slip out of my mouth without thinking it might have scared him. But it did not.

"What can I call you?" he asked, looking at me with sparkly eyes. "My favourite bookworm? My RAF lady?" he kissed my face between each proposition. "My girlfriend?" he concluded, planting his eyes into mine.

I could not prevent a huge smile from appearing on my face.

"Well, all of them are quite nice, but I've to admit, I prefer the last one."

"Hmm, and why that?" he teased me.

"'cause it makes me yours and only yours."

"I can't agree more with that," he seemed happy with my answer. "Does it mean... you broke up with him?" he dared to ask.

I nodded and saw his smile widen.

"Good. I was scared I was putting you in an uncomfortable position, but we did things in the right order! Not that I care about not hurting his feelings..."

A jazz tune started on the radio and Andrew immediately grabbed my free hand, keeping the other one on my hip, and started to move our bodies across the room, spinning me around and laughing. This time, I was the girl he was dancing with. I had no reason to be jealous anymore. I could not take my eyes off him, and instead of making fun of me, he stopped in the middle of the song and looked at me with the same intensity, refusing to withdraw his hands from my body.

"Can I kiss my girlfriend?"

"You don't have to ask," I replied. And with that, I tasted his lips again. It started softly, with something very sweet, but quickly, desire got the upper hand and our bodies connected, Andrew's hands wandering to my lower back. I took his bottom lip between my teeth to try to gain control and he groaned, aroused by my move. Things would have escalated quickly if we had not been interrupted by the sound of the main door opening, causing me to quickly pull out of Andrew's arms.

"It's my Dad!" I whispered, but seeing the frightened look on his face, he already knew. I gave him a quick peck on the cheek to reassure him, straightened my clothes and left the kitchen to go meet my father.

"Hi Dad!" I said.

He put his coat on the hanger next to the door before approaching me, his arms wide open to welcome me in his embrace.

"Here's my beautiful girl! I'm so glad to have you back home."

"I'm glad to be back too."

He grabbed me by the shoulders and took a step back to look at me, his smile widening with pride, but his eyes left me to focus on something behind me.

"And who's that young fellow there?" he asked, causing me to turn around. Andrew had left the kitchen after me and was standing in the doorframe, visibly nervous.

I invited him to join us, which he did, stopping by my side.

"Dad, this is Andrew," I said cheerily, grabbing my boyfriend's arm. "Andrew, this is my dad."

My father smiled warmly at him, extending his hand towards my soldier, which Andrew shook politely as he showed some relief.

"It's an honour to meet you Mr. Wright. Your daughter told me a lot about you and how great a pilot you are!"

"It's nice to meet you too Andrew..." he paused.

"Collins! Andrew Collins, sir," he quickly gave him the answer he was looking for.

"So, you're the pilot who stole my daughter's heart?"

"I've to plead guilty here, sir. I wouldn't be too presumptuous and assume that her heart is completely mine for our relationship is very recent, but one thing is sure, she entirely stole mine," Andrew addressed my father as if talking to his superior, which conveyed the amount of stress he was enduring. "And I've to apologise for getting your daughter out of a promising relationship. It was not my intent to get in the way, and had I known, I would have never run after her. However, if I may say, I don't regret anything, for she's the best thing that has ever happened to me."

My heart melted with such proof of love. I was so thankful for Andrew to express his thought so bravely, despite the fact that my father could be very intimidating. I squeezed his arm to let him know how his words had moved me.

"Don't worry about that son! All I ask is for you to take care of my daughter and make her happy! She's the apple of my eye, so don't even dare to hurt her or else you'll hear from me," he disguised his warning as a joke, even if I knew Andrew had made a good impression already. "Besides, I wasn't very fond of that Lewis..." he admitted.

"Dad!" I exclaimed, a bit shocked.

"Well, I'm sorry but that's the truth. He was just a daddy's boy. But let's not talk about him anymore. Let's eat something and then you can tell me more about you, son!" he said, inviting us to move to the kitchen.  
  
  


*****  
  
  
  


Lunch had gone well, with Andrew and my Dad talking vividly about planes and Spitfires and their different missions. Even though my father had fought during the first war, he had advice for Andrew and my boyfriend was really eager to hear about my father's stories. I was a mere spectator of their conversation, but I felt blessed to witness such connection between the two most important people in my life. If the two could get along well, then everything would be alright, for my father was my model and I did not want to disappoint him. I was very confident about Andrew being accepted by him, but it was a relief to see I was not wrong. At some point, they left the kitchen, my father inviting Andrew in his office to show him some documents about aviation. I was washing the dishes, a broad smile lightening my face, dreaming about how it would have been if my mother were still alive. She was not there anymore to share those moments with me, but I knew she was happy for me. I hoped I was turning into the woman she would have wanted me to be. She would have probably told me to keep Andrew, because there was not many like him in this world.

Once my work done, I went back to the living room to find my father and Andrew exchanging a heart-warming handshake. Giving the look on their face, they had probably had some serious talk, the usual father to potential son-in-law thing.

"Well, kids, I've to go back to work," my father announced. "It was a great pleasure to meet you Andrew. Know that you'll always be welcome in that house. Take care," he declared, patting Andrew on the back.

"Thank you, sir. The pleasure was mine."

I went to my father to embrace him before his departure.

"My little treasure," he said affectionately. "Be safe on your way back there. I'm very proud of you."

I could not hold back a tear. It was always breaking my heart to have to say goodbye to my father, even more when I had no idea when I would see him again. It was visibly hard for him too but he said nothing more, put on his hat and left, leaving me with Andrew. I turned to him and hurled myself into his comforting arms.

"I should go too. I'd like to see my parents before heading back to Duxford," he informed me as he gently stroked my hair.

I nodded, accepting the fact that I had no monopoly over his company. Moreover, I was already lucky to have spent these extra hours with him.

"I don't know if I should ask you that, but you can come with me if you want to. I know it can seem hasty but I don't want you to feel left out."

"I won't feel left out," I said, looking up to him. "I appreciate the invitation but I think you should go by yourself this time. Your parents deserve to have you just for themselves and I don't want to be in the way, no matter how I'd love to meet them. Enjoy your time with them, I'll see you in Duxford."

Andrew said nothing, knowing I was right. He kissed me tenderly, with all his love. I did not want to say goodbye. I did not want to leave his arms. But I had too. I had to go back to Duxford and do my work and it was easier this time for I was sure he would come back.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I had left Freya only one hour before but I was already missing her. I felt overly sentimental but could not help it. She was making me like that. Yet, there I was, in front of my father's bookshop, ready to surprise my parents. I ran a hand through my hair and pushed the door open. The bell rang, informing that someone had come in. I saw my mother turn towards me and open her mouth to pronounce the usual greeting for a customer, but she stopped in her track, realising that I was standing there.

"Oh my God," she shouted, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Oh my God!" she repeated, as I approached her to take her into my arms. Her fragile frame was shaking as she was crying because of the surprise. She was about to make me cry too.

"My sweet boy," she said while cupping my face in her hands. "My sweet little boy is back." She smiled through the tears, and I was so glad to have had the chance to pay her a visit and make her happy like that. Despite the fact that I was way taller than her, she always managed to make me feel like her little boy again.

"Hello Mama," I greeted her, kissing her cheek.

"Oh sweet lord. My poor heart Andrew! Did you think about my heart? I almost died when I saw you there!" she gave me a gentle slap on the arm.

"Sorry Mama. Couldn't wait to see you," I smiled.

"Well, you're forgiven. Arthur!" She called my father. "Arthur! Our boy is back!"

"What?" a deep voice emerged from the backroom.

"Our Andy is back! Come here!"

I heard quick footsteps and my father appeared in the doorframe behind my mother.

"Oh God, Andy!" he shouted, surprised to see me as if he had not believed my mother. I laughed, amused by his reaction.

"Hi Papa," I said, proving him that he was not dreaming.

"Hello son," he said back. "It's good to see you." He hugged me, offering me one rare sign of affection.

"We need to let your sisters know that you're here. Cathy, call them and tell them to come. Invite everybody," he told my mother. "How long are you staying with us my boy? We need to have a great dinner to celebrate. It's been so long!"

"I'm here at least until tomorrow," I informed him. "Then I'll probably have to go back to my planes."

"Your planes. Your planes. I believe you love your planes more than your own family," my mother declared, half-joking.

"Mama, you know that's not true. I visit as much as I can but I'm needed there," I defended myself.

"I know darling. And we're very proud of what you do. We worry that's all."

"Let's close the shop and head home, okay?" my father who did not like talking about feelings decided to stop my mother from saying more. "We'll prepare dinner and you'll tell us everything about those last months."  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I could see my parents were very happy to have all their children and grandchildren reunited that night around the family table. My mother could not stop asking me questions and I was the centre of attention. I had told them everything about my mission in Dunkirk, deliberately avoiding some details not to scare my mother, such as the German plane shooting at me or the whole 'stuck in my plane and almost drowning' moment. I knew that if I told her the truth, she would never let me board a plane again, and she would lock me up in my bedroom if she had too. Thus, she would be better ignoring the fact that I had almost died the day before.

My big sisters were all about teasing me as usual. Being the youngest siblings, I was used to that and it even felt nice to have these little fights with them again.

"So, what about those clothes by the way? Who's the lucky man you stole, Andy?" my sister Jane asked.

"Yeah, not very fashionable, Andy. Why aren't you wearing your uniform? You know it almost makes you handsome," Mary followed up.

"Well, first they're not mine, okay? And second, remember I told you I had to ditch? So, my uniform was soaked and salty and Freya didn't want me to become ill so—"

"Freya?" Mary immediately questioned with a wicked grin on her face.

I cursed myself for having spilled the beans so easily. Typical Andrew not thinking about what he said when feeling joyful. I turned red, knowing that my sisters would never let go until I told them everything.

"Who's Freya? Does our baby Andy has a girl?" they insisted.

I admitted defeat.

"Freya's my girlfriend." I let out with a sigh, preparing for their reactions.

"Oh my God! Finally, boy!" Mary cheered.

"Mum did you hear that? He's not single anymore!"

I saw my mum smile and look at my father.

"We heard Jane. And we're waiting for your brother to say more."

Everybody was looking at me, my sisters giggling with excitement.

"We met in Duxford and our relationship is very recent because she had a boyfriend before."

"No way! You're a home wrecker!" Jane laughed.

"I'm not!" I responded, quite offended. "She was not happy with him anymore. And I waited for her."

"What a gentleman," Mary commented.

"Who would resist our Andy anyway?" My mother asked. "No one is better than my boy."

I smiled, comforted by my mother's words.

"Why didn't you bring her here with you?"

"Because you would have scared her," I chaffed her.

"Is she a nurse?" Mary asked.

"Nah. She's working for the Women Auxiliary Air Force."

"Oh, a smart one," Jane replied. "How old is she?"

"Twenty."

"Young and smart."

"What does she look like? I'm sure she's pretty, knowing how picky you are."

"She's pretty! She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. She's about your height, Jane, brunette, with hazelnut eyes and the most ravishing smile."

"Listen to him, already so in love. Makes me want to meet her already," Mary said.

"For sure he's in love. Cheesy Andy."

"Girls, you were just like him when you first met your husbands. And so was your father at the beginning of our relationship. So, I think you better not make fun of him here," my mum defended me.

"We're just joking Mama," Jane explained. "We're very happy for you baby boy. Aren't we Mary?"

"Yes, we are, and you deserve to be happy. We just can't wait to meet her."

"Maybe I'll come with her next time I've a permission."

"You'll already be married and with kids when that happens," my father joked.

I didn't try to prove him wrong, for it was true I had already thought about having kids with Freya in a distant future. And marriage, of course. But it was too soon to say if it would happen or if it was what she wanted too.

"Don't worry, you'll be invited to my wedding Dad," I said on the same funny tone. "And I'll come as soon as I can. Promise."

Conversation happily went on until late that night. We ended up sitting around the fireplace and I fell asleep on the couch, soothed by my sisters' voices, feeling safe and loved.


	12. Poetic love

I ran to Eden and threw myself into her arms to share my happiness with her. She was so surprised by my sudden change of mood that she did not know what to say or how to react.

"He's alive, Eden! I ran into him in London!" I announced.

"Oh my God! Really?" she questioned, not quite believing such news.

"Yes! I'm so relieved. I can't believe he made it to me. He said he had promised," I responded excitedly.

"Are you talking about Collins?" One of the pilots present in the room asked.

"Yes, Andrew is alive. He was shot down by a German plane but was rescued by civilians and he was repatriated with the other soldiers," I explained in one breath.

"I'm glad to hear that! We could do with his help. And since you're here, we can be sure he'll show up."

I blushed, even though I had no reason to try to hide my feelings. It was not a secret for anyone anymore.

"So, you two are together now? I mean, not that I want to be intrusive, but I always thought you guys were dating and I couldn't believe it when I was told I was wrong," he scratched his head with embarrassment.

"We are. Dating. I mean, we are together now," I confirmed awkwardly.

"That man! He needs to teach me how to seduce girls like you."

"Oh, believe me, they're not easy ones," Eden added, triggering laughs from the other guys in the room.

"Do you know when he's coming back? Collins," he asked.

"Oh, tomorrow probably. He went to see his family this afternoon so, tomorrow yeah," I answered.

"Now that you know everything, darling, I'll take Freya with me, 'cause she has a lot to tell me," Eden declared, giving me a knowing look.

She dragged me away, to the outside, where she knew nobody would hear us.

"So?" she started, waiting for me to go on.

"So what?" I replied, faking innocence.

"What happened?" she said with excitement. "Yesterday your mind was completely elsewhere and then you left for London, and now that you're back, you're the incarnation of happiness."

"He came back, that's all," I smiled.

"I know that. But what happened then?"

"Well..." I looked at my hands to avoid her inquisitive eyes. "I ran into him at the station and then we went to my place since it wasn't too far, and he needed to rest and change. And we slept, and ate, and—"

"You slept, or you slept together?" she cut me off.

"Eden!" My cheeks turning bright red betrayed me.

"I knew it!"

"We didn't—"

"You're not that innocent!"

I felt so embarrassed that she had guessed so easily. It was like it was written on my face and that everybody could see it.

"Please, don't judge me."

"Why would I judge you?"

"Because I've left Lewis only yesterday and I already gave to someone else what I would refuse him lately... It makes me an easy girl."

"Fuck what they say! It doesn't make you an easy girl. You're in love! You followed your heart that's all."

"I know... But keep it to yourself, alright? My father seems to like him."

"He already met your father?!"

"Yes, and it went well. I wouldn't want him to change his mind if he heard about that."

"You deserve to be happy," she said, hugging me. "And promise, I'll keep it a secret. How was it anyway? Was it good? Because if not, I'll have a word with him."

"Shut up!"

"What? That's important in a relationship!" she made me laugh.

"It was good," I admitted. "He was tender and respectful. It was perfect," I turned my back to her, embarrassed each time I thought about it.

"You lucky girl! You got the perfect man!"

Eden was right. I could not hope for somebody better than Andrew. He was so nice to me, so understanding, so patient, so everything. I could feel it in my heart, like an evidence, like nothing else mattered anymore. He was the one I wanted to spend my life with.

*****

I was back in my uniform and in my military state of mind, back in Duxford. I had left my family behind, again, to come back to my friends and to the girl of my dreams. It felt like I had two different lives now, different worlds that would never meet. One side of my life that I wanted to protect from the harshness of the other one, at all cost. Lying to my family was not easy, but it was needed, and even if they did not know all I was going through, I would be fine; I was surrounded with great people here too.

"Look who's back!" one of my teammates greeted me when I entered the office.

"Collins, the return!"

"Morning boys! Feels like you missed me," I joked around.

"I was more going to volunteer to give your girlfriend a shoulder to cry on, but since you're back..."

"That won't be necessary," I laughed. "Anyway, I'm glad to be back to my team," I scanned the room hoping to find the faces I really wanted to see, but they weren't there.

"We know you didn't come back for us."

"Don't know what you mean, I'm here to do my duty."

"Well, you're back just in time. One more day and people would have thought you were deserting."

"Never."

"Anyway, what happened over there?"

"We were told you tried to join the navy?"

"Yeah, not a good idea. I almost ended up at the bottom of the sea," I laughed.

"Are you telling us planes don't float?" they kept turning this into a joke, because they knew it made it easier to deal with our fears.

"Are you guys going to tell me where Farrier is hiding?" I asked directly when I had enough of pretending.

Everyone looked at each other in silence, as if I had asked the question they had been avoiding.

"You don't know?" one asked.

"Know what?" I snorted.

"He's missing."

"Farrier?" I couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, he never came back."

"Come on, he was fine! He got all the German planes. I saw him with my own eyes! You can't fool me."

I refused to listen to them, convinced they were messing with me one more time, but the absence of smiles on their faces was enough of a blow.

"Sorry mate. Maybe something happened later."

I was so sure to find him waiting for me, I had imagined the way he would have made fun of me for ending up in the sea and having to come back by train. I was ready to resume our conversation from before we went on our mission, when I had told him she loved me. I had things to share with him. I had to thank him for saving my life and always having my back. And now they were telling me he was missing. The toughest of all of us was gone.

I could not process it, and I remained silent while they were expecting me to say something, but there was nothing I could say. I did my best to hide the impact the news had on me and I forced a smile to pretend I was coping just fine. There was nothing to worry about, and before anyone could ask me if I was okay, I left the room to avoid their eyes.

*****

He had not returned. Was he just missing? Maybe. Dead? Probably. Of course, I had thought something could happen to one of us, but I had naively believed that if I had been lucky enough to make it home, he would have been too. I was wrong, but I was not willing to believe it. I had seen him from that boat. I had seen him take those Germans down. He did not seem to be in a difficult position, so I had made all the possible scenarios in my head. Either he had been shot above Dunkirk, or else it was the lack of fuel and he had crashed.

I had shared this bedroom with my best friend for months now. We had met on our first day at Duxford and had quickly grown fond of each other. He was some years older than me, but it did not prevent us from becoming friends. He was a big brother to me. The one I had never had. Leaving my family had been easier with him being there for me, always joking around and cheering me up.

But now I was looking at his bed, neatly made, with perfect hospital corners, and it looked like he had never slept in it. His belongings were the only reminders of his presence in this room. I had never told him how much I cared about him. We were not the kind to talk much about that anyway. I just hoped he knew. It was hard to think I would never see him again, that I had to say goodbye, but I could not let my sorrow creep over me. We had a war to win, and I had to keep doing my best, for my country and for him, since he had sacrificed his life to save me and many other soldiers. The man was a hero and I would make sure everybody knew his name. But first, I had to collect his effects to give them back to his family. There was one thing we had promised to each other, that if one of us had to die, the other would visit his family. I always thought it would be me, the one to die first.

I moved to his bed and sat there in silence. I looked at the few objects placed on the bedside table: a watch, a pack of cigarettes and a book of poems. The ones he would learn by heart and recite to the girls he wanted to seduce. I grabbed it and opened it to where he had placed his bookmark. It was a sheet of paper on which James had started rewriting a poem, but it was introduced with something I was not expecting.

" _Dear Eden, when I read this poem I cannot but think of you. Seeing Andrew and Freya so in love made me realise it was what I wanted, needed too. And I need it with you_."

I had not realised James had feelings for Eden. I was so centered on my own love life that I had not even taken the time to care about his. He was pretty good at hiding it anyway, but it made me feel like the worst friend ever. I tore the page with the poem and folded it with the letter before placing it in my pocket. I promised myself that I would ask Freya if we should give it to Eden. She would know better than me.

Once done with this, I grabbed James's bag and filled it with his belongings, erasing all traces of his previous presence. I moved to his locker to collect his clothes. His blue uniform was hung there, a prestigious testimony of the sense he had given to his life. I was not sure I was allowed to give it to his family, but I did not care, it would be of great comfort to them, but as I removed it from the hanger, my eyes were attracted to something that had fallen on the floor and I hurried to collect it.

It was a photograph of the two of us, taken at the beginning of the war, when we thought it would just be a matter of weeks for things to come back to normal. I perfectly remembered this day. It was in October of the previous year. We had been training hard since the declaration of war. We had just come back from a flight test to work on our formation in the sky, and James was giving me feedback. We had sat on the wing of his plane, enjoying the gentle warmth of the autumn sun, and one of our teammates had decided to immortalize the moment.

James was making fun of me for always flying with my blue uniform on, while he would prefer his thick leather jacket, which he said was more suited to his athletic shape and tough character. According to him, girls were more attracted to men with a free spirit, just like him, whereas me, with my blond hair and my blue eyes matching my uniform, I was more like the perfect pilot we found in magazines, fully devoted to their insignia, that girls dated to please their parents. I argued that on the contrary, women did not care about leather jackets and men pretending to be too independent to wear the same clothes as their teammates, but that they adored a man in a uniform because they associated it with heroism, something he would never come close. He pretended to be offended and called me a little prick. I called him a grumpy bachelor. He followed up with Angel Andy, a reference to my look, which he was very proud of. I came with Jealous James, and we could not help but laugh at our stupid jokes. We went on teasing one another until it was time for dinner and we had to leave our favourite spot.

James had written something at the bottom of the photograph, below the date.

" _Angel Andy and his very (very) handsome friend (aka Jealous James)._ "

I snorted with amusement. Even absent, he managed to make me laugh. To know that he had kept this testimony of our friendship with him was comforting, but also painful. I would miss him so much, and at that moment, I felt incapable of fulfilling my duty without him by my side. I blinked to prevent tears from falling and I placed the photo in my jacket, so that he would continue to be there with me, no matter what. Doubts disappeared as quickly as they came and I swore I would continue what we had started together. He would not want me to grieve for him anyway. He would kick my ass and tell me to continue my life without him. I would do it. For him.

*****

I sneaked into Andrew's bedroom and found him sat on his bed, immersed in a book. His face brightened when he saw me, yet my worry did not disappear. He quickly closed the book and put it aside as I approached him, so he could stand up and greet me with a tender kiss on the cheek.

"What were you reading?" I asked, driven by curiosity.

"A book of poems," he replied.

"I thought you only read books about planes," I said with amusement.

"It's not mine. It was James's," his face darkened as he mentioned his best friend's name.

"How do you feel about that?" I asked with concern. He refused to talk about it, acting as if life was just supposed to go on as normal, but I could identify the sadness behind his smile every time I saw him.

"What do you mean?"

"About James. How do you cope with that?"

"I'd rather not talk about him, if you don't mind," he withdrew into himself.

I nodded, respecting his feelings, and I observed him as he sat back on his bed and rested his back against the wall behind him. Ignoring his friend's absence was probably the best way he had found to endure the pain. If he pretended it did not exist then he would not feel it.

"Now, come here," he said as he reached for my hand and drew me towards him to sit between his legs. "I want you to read some poems for me. I want to forget everything but you."

I grabbed the book and opened it at random. I traced the words with my finger as I read the title of the literary work.

"If I can stop one heart from breaking," I started.

Andrew wrapped his arms around my waist and settled his chin on my shoulder.

"Go on," he encouraged me.

I could feel his warm breathing in my neck, causing me to turn red. I loved such proximity with him, but the deep connection we had and the precariousness of our relationship could be scary sometimes, especially that by being with him, I was defying authority. Yet, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

"If I can stop one heart from breaking,  
I shall not live in vain;  
If I can ease one life the aching,  
Or cool one pain,  
Or help one fainting robin  
Unto his nest again,  
I shall not live in vain."

I remained silent, letting the words do their work.

"Who is it from?" Andrew finally asked.

"Emily Dickinson."

I hoped that by my presence, I was stopping his heart from breaking, that my voice was soothing and my touch reassuring. I couldn't imagine the extent of his sorrow, and I was willing to do everything to ease his mind just for a moment.

"I'd love to write poems to you. But I'm not very talented, you know," he confessed as he left me to lean back against his pillow.

"I'm sure you're talented enough."

"Well, maybe I'll give it a go, if it can make you happy."

"You know I would read your letters with the same enthusiasm whatever their content, poem or not."

"But I want to impress you," he joked.

"You don't have to, I already love you," I said, triggering a fond smile on his face.

I probably read ten more poems, with Andrew listening carefully and praising my reading. After a while, I turned silent, and I started browsing the book with attention as I completely absorbed myself into those pieces of life. I was brought back to reality when I felt Andrew sitting up behind me.

"You're beautiful," he whispered in my ear.

I smiled and pressed my back against his chest, wanting to burry myself into his warm embrace.

"I can't believe the most beautiful girl in the entire world loves me," he added, and traced my jawline with kisses, making me chuckle.

"And I can't believe that with all the girls gravitating around you, you chose me," I said.

"They weren't as beautiful, that's why," he replied, kissing me again.

"It's the only reason you're with me, isn't it?" I joked.

"Nah, for sex too," he added with a grin.

"Oh, shush you!" I pretended to be offended, and put my hand over his mouth. I could feel his smile widen against my palm. He was such a goof.

"I'm kidding, love," he said after removing my hand from his face.

"Too bad it happened in a moment of weakness, and I've vowed not to do it again until I'm married," I teased him.

The reaction I had expected quickly arrived.

"What?" he asked with despair in his voice.

I laughed seeing the childish expression on his face.

"No sex anymore," I added, teasing him even more.

Andrew grabbed me by the waist and forced me to turn around to face him, moving my body against his.

"Don't play with me, Wright," he friendly warned me, but I loved playing, and I gave him an innocent look which drove him mad.

"Are you saying that you're going to resist to that?" he said, pointing to his face and body. I nodded, he was so cute when trying to win me over, but I was stubborn, he knew it.

"And to that?" he asked again, but this time, his lips connected with the crook of my neck in a sweet kiss. I shivered at the contact of his skin against mine. He wanted more, and he was nibbling and sucking on my skin, trying to make me surrender. He was stubborn just like me.

It felt so good I had difficulty keeping my reactions to myself, but I had to. Andrew went on, moving bit by bit to my jaw, then my earlobe, arousing me. I let a moan escape from my mouth, not able to fight it anymore. As soon as he heard it, he faced me, a victorious smile on his lips.

"So, what is it, love? Is it a no?" he asked proudly. "Looks like a no to me, you can't resist."

"You're a tease, Collins," I faked to be upset.

Andrew chuckled, visibly happy with his little effect on me. He gazed into my eyes, and moved his face closer to mine, reducing the space between our lips, but he stopped there. I knew the smell of his skin and the feeling that came with his touch, and I wanted a taste again.

"Kiss me already!" I let out in a sigh, and I pressed my lips against his. He stopped playing then, and passionately replied to my move. Sometimes, accepting defeat was not a bad thing.

We spent the rest of our time together just cuddling, kissing and chatting. I eventually had to leave his arms to go back to my dormitory before someone noticed I was missing. I got up, and heard him groan with discontentment. He was already falling asleep, but the empty space I had left beside him pulled him from his drowsiness.

"Stay with me," he said in a sleepy voice.

"I can't. They'll find out if I don't go back."

"I sleep better with you next to me," he tried to convince me. I knew it was true but I could not take the risk to be sent home.

"I promise I'll sleep next to you soon, but not tonight. You know we can't," I tried to explain.

He grumbled and buried his face into the pillow, like a wilful child.

"You need to rest now. I'll see you tomorrow."

I bent over and gave him a good-night kiss on the cheek, but he did not move, he was already asleep. 


	13. Once I had a secret love

I yawned and covered my mouth with my hand to hide from the cooker who was watching me. I shyly smiled and grabbed the plate of toasts she was handing me over the counter. I filled my cup with tea and walked towards my lady friends, where a seat was waiting for me. They all gave me a warm smile as I sat at the end of the table, next to Eden. The first sip of warm black tea was a sacred moment for me every morning, the thing I really needed to be fully awake, but I could feel eyes on me as I put my cup back on the table. I glanced at my friends from the corner of my eye and raised an eyebrow in surprise when I realised they were indeed observing me.

"We are waiting," one of my roommates quietly said.

"I've got nothing to entertain you with this morning," I replied as I looked down at my drink which suddenly appeared to be very interesting.

"Oh, come on! We know you went to see him last night. Did you really think we would believe you were sick?"

I blushed, still avoiding their eyes, and wished I could disappear into the dark liquid that was reflecting my rosy cheeks.

"So?" she insisted as I remained silent.

"Nothing interesting happened," I grumpily replied.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing you want to hear, Jena," I added.

"Tell us anyway! You being with Collins is the most exciting thing happening around here. A secret relationship with a handsome pilot. You can at least share that with your friends."

"Alright, alright!" I surrendered. "I went to see him. It's true. But we just spent the evening chatting and relaxing—"

I was interrupted by their comments about how cute it was.

"—I also read poems to him. And then he was falling asleep, so I left. Nothing more," I insisted on the last words. I did not know what they were imagining about Andrew and me, but it was probably steamier than it really was.

"I wish I could be as lucky as you Freya. I just want to meet the man of my life but it's way harder than I thought. Mostly because we can't flirt as we would like to, since it's forbidden to date soldiers. How are we supposed to seduce men if we can't approach them?" Jena asked with an air of despair.

"You've got to be as sneaky as our Freya," Eden commented.

"Hey! I didn't do anything of the sort!" I defended myself.

"Oh you did. We know your 'I pretend I'm not interested so he wants me even more' strategy. That's what we should do, maybe we're trying too hard."

"Maybe we would be luckier if we were working with a squadron too, like Freya and Eden, but we're stuck with old men..."

"Older men can be attractive too..."

"You've to be really desperate to settle for a man the age of your father," Eden laughed.

"But it's so hard to find someone nice!"

"I don't have this problem since I already have a boyfriend but he isn't in Duxford and I'm dying to see him. I'm so jealous of you Freya! You've got to see him every day," another girl said.

I forced a smile, trying to hide how embarrassed I was to be the centre of their attention.

"Change of subjects, girls. The superior is coming our way," Eden warned us.

The strict woman was indeed making her way to our table. I focused on my slice of bread, wanting to look as innocent as possible. When she stopped next to me, I raised my eyes to her, plastering a polite smile on my face, but it quickly disappeared when I met her glassy eyes. It was me she had come to see.

"Miss Wright, would you please come with me?" she asked.

"Uh, yes, of course," I hesitantly replied as my friends looked at me with incomprehension. I abandoned the rest of my toasts and my tea on the table and followed my superior out of the refectory.

I almost had to run to be able to follow her for she was walking so quickly.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I started to get nervous.

"Commandant's office," she coldly replied without even looking at me.

"What for?" I continued, unaware of the reason I was being called in.

"You'll see." And with that, she made clear that I should not ask more questions.

I kept silent for the rest of the walk through the corridors, wondering what could be the matter. A knot formed in my stomach as the door of the office came in sight. I took a deep breath and stepped in, ready to face whatever would be reproached to me. Everything became clear when I discovered Andrew, standing on my right, before the commandant's desk. His eyes quickly met mine, as to tell me he knew what was going to happen, but at the same time, there was something reassuring in that look, something that gave me strength.

"Good morning, sir," I greeted my superior, whose face was closed, not as friendly as usual.

"You know why I asked you to come, don't you Miss Wright?" he asked, his eyes focused on the pen he was holding in his hands.

"I'm afraid I don't, sir," I tried to tell with assurance.

"I think you know. I think both of you know, actually," he followed as he pointed at Andrew and me.

I felt like a child being scolded for having behaved badly, but I tried to hide it. As for Andrew, he looked completely composed, standing straight, chin up, hands behind his back. He was clearly used to dealing with pressure contrary to me.

"You know how it works in the army, right? You learnt the rules. You know that women recruits and soldiers cannot maintain close relationships."

"We know, sir," Andrew solemnly answered.

"If you know, why was I told that you and Miss Wright are seeing each other as part of an intimate relationship?"

My heart raced and I could feel my hands get sweaty. How Andrew managed to remain that calm was a mystery to me.

"Because we transgressed the rule, sir," he announced, self-assured.

"Do you confirm Miss Wright?" the commandant asked me.

"I confirm," I said as I looked down.

"It's not because you're wearing the same uniform that it means you can do whatever you want. And I know this time is a hard one, that war is terrifying and that you need something reassuring in your life. You try to find comfort where you can, it's understandable, but it's not allowed! You're here to work, not to waste your time into a fleeting romance!"

"It's not like that—" Andrew tried to argue.

"I don't care! Rules are rules!" he shouted.

I jumped at his sudden change of tone.

"You put me in an uncomfortable position here. You acted like children and now actions have to be taken. It's not something I wanted to do but I've no—"

The door opened, interrupting the commandant, who left to take an urgent call. So, we were now alone in his office, still wondering what would happen to us.

"How does he know?" I asked Andrew, whose blue eyes were now fixed on me.

"Your ex-boyfriend," he simply said.

"What about him?" I insisted.

"I saw him just before. He was leaving the office when I arrived. He grassed us up."

"But I never told him I was with you. He never heard your name from my mouth."

"I don't get it either, Freya. But from the look he gave me and the smirk on his face, it's him."

"You must be right. That's something he would do. I'm sorry..."

"It's going to be alright."

I did not have the chance to reply for the commandant was back from his call.

"Where was I with both of you..." he paused. "Oh, right! I've to ask you to leave Duxford, Miss Wright."

"Excuse me?" I let out in a gasp, quite shocked with what he had just declared.

Andrew opened his mouth but remained silent, he was probably not expecting such radical sanction.

"You heard me. You can no longer stay in Duxford, we cannot trust you anymore. You understand that I can't get rid of Mr Collins. He's essential in this war. You're not."

"But, sir, I—"

"Please, pack your things and leave with the next train. You're young, you'll learn from your mistakes. You can go now," he cut me, gesturing with his hands towards the door, not looking at me anymore. I felt like a nobody. I fought to prevent the tears that were forming in my eyes from rolling down my cheeks, and nodded in resignation before I turned my back to him.

As I opened the door to leave, I heard the commandant talk to Andrew.

"Collins, you stay with me. We have other things to discuss."

With that, I closed the door behind me, not allowed to look one last time at my boyfriend. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt like it was about to explode. It was not sadness I was feeling at the moment, but a furious anger. Something so strong I wanted to scream out in the middle of the corridor, unleash all the resentment I had against that one person that wanted to destroy my happiness. I leant against the wall and focused on my breathing to recollect my thoughts. He would not set us apart. He would not win, but he would see of what I was capable. I was not the girl he had met anymore. I was strong and fierce now.

I made my way to the main building, fists clenched, determined. I knew he would still be there, somewhere in the base, waiting to contemplate the result of his work. I abruptly pushed the door open and stepped outside. I came to a halt and shivered in the brisk air of the morning as I scanned the area, instantly spotting Lewis in the distance. He was waiting next to his car, his eyes fixed on me, a devilish smirk on his face. I headed towards him, mentally preparing for what I would say to this horrible person. When I reached him, I angrily pointed my finger at him as I faced him, pressing my fingertip to his torso.

"You utter bastard! I hate you!" I yelled to his face. "I hate you so much!" I repeated.

Lewis grabbed me by the wrist, unshakeable, and forced me to stand still as he planted his eyes in mine.

"You asked for it, Freya," he stated.

I tried to set free from his grasp, his contact making me uneasy, but he was stronger.

"Why did you do that?" I asked in despair. "Why did you do that to me?"

"You really thought you would get away from me like that? You left me for another man and I should do nothing? What? I should be happy for you? You've humiliated me, you have to pay for that."

"We were not happy anymore!"

"I don't care! You were mine, Freya! You were mine and you still are. I told you we were not over. I'll fight for you!"

He realised that he was yelling too at this point and lowered his voice.

"When I heard you were dating that pilot, that bugger I had talked to when he was about to ask you out, it drove me crazy babe," he said, cupping my face with his hands.

"Don't call me that!" I harshly said, pulling away from his touch.

"He made fun of me! He lied to my face, and he laughed at me with his friend. He thinks he's better than everyone and you fell for it..."

"You're so wrong about him, and you're so blinded by your own arrogance that you don't see that the problem is you! No, instead of trying to be better, you come all the way here to destroy everything instead of letting me be!"

"I had to, I couldn't let him have you! Not when I knew his name and his face!"

"Who told you?"

"I know people Freya, everywhere. Did you think I wouldn't hear about your new boyfriend? You kissed him in front of everyone the day after you ditched me. Then one of my friends here in Duxford told me you were a thing, you and your pilot, but I can't accept that. It would have been way easier if your fuckin' hero had died in his plane..."

"What did you say?" I could not believe he had pronounced such words.

"I wished he had died so that you wouldn't be together anymore. But he survived, so I had to do it my way. If I can't have you, you can't have someone else darling."

His air of self-sufficiency, his words, his nastiness, were too much to bear anymore.

"Fuck you!" I yelled as I hit him in the chest. "Fuck you!" I punched him frantically but he did not move an inch. My desperate blows could do nothing, he felt nothing at all. Tears slid down my cheeks, and sobs escaped from my mouth. I was a mess and Lewis enjoyed it. I wanted to hurt him, to show him how I despised the person he had become, but I was pulled back by strong arms wrapping around my shaking frame, and dragging me away.

"Shh, love. It's okay," he whispered into my ear. His soothing voice was everything I needed at that moment. He did not let go off me as he led me back inside to get away from Lewis. He opened the door and gently pushed me in, before turning around to face my former boyfriend. The look on his face had nothing soft anymore, turning his kind blue eyes into something furious.

"I'll see you around Collins!" Lewis shouted. "Somewhere you can't hide behind your comrades."

Andrew did not even care to reply. He turned his back to him and closed the door. I hurried into his arms and burst into tears as he stroked my back in comfort.

"Freya, look at me," he asked, but I refused.

"Look at me, please," he repeated as he lifted my chin up to gaze into my watery eyes. "We'll be fine. We won't let him come between us," he tried to reassure me.

"But I won't see you anymore if I go back to London," I declared in a sob.

"We will see each other. Not as often as we used to do, but we will see each other nonetheless. I promise," he gave me a smile to back his words. "Anyway, I won't be in Duxford anymore so it would be easier if you went back to London."

"What?"

"I'm transferred to another base, further south. Nothing to do with us dating, don't worry. I just have to give place for the new recruits who will train here. Looks like I'm highly qualified now," he chuckled.

"How far from London?"

"Not further than Duxford. It's just South to London instead of North. I won't be that far from you."

"It's already too far," I mumbled.

"We'll be fine, believe me. I'll never abandon you," he assured. "Give me a smile now." I forced a faint smile on my face, but it quickly faded away.

"Come on, love! I prefer smiling Freya to crying Freya. You don't want me to be sad too, do you?" he teased me, causing me to smile sincerely.

"I prefer that," he said and leant forward to rest his forehead against mine. His nose brushed the tip of mine, and his eyes were fixed on my mouth, silently asking for the permission to kiss me. He got the answer he was looking for when he saw me bit my lower lip in anticipation, and then our lips connected so we could prove our feelings to each other. I had no desire to hide, I had nothing to lose anymore. I didn't have to hide from my superior, I had no reason to hide from Lewis either; in fact, I wished I could show him that despite all his efforts, he would not break us. Andrew was younger, but he was way more mature than Lewis had ever been, and he kept proving me that I would never regret my previous relationship.

*****

There I was, standing on the platform, waiting for the London train to enter the station. I was still wearing my uniform, part of me did not want to accept that this period of my life was already over. I had finally found something meaningful to do and it had been taken away from me, as a sentence for having felt the purest sentiment a human could ever experience. Love. That war was nothing but reasonable, I was sure of that. If only this conflict had never started. If only Andrew and I had met in a peaceful time, things would have been easier. Or they would have been different, or worse, non-existent. I hated this war but I had to admit that we loved each other because of it. Not _because_ of it, for I would have loved Andrew just as much if I had met him in another context, but feelings were probably increased by the precariousness of the situation, our relationship had developed faster than it would have in a normal context. We had no idea what the next day would be like so we had to live in the present, enjoy every second of it for fear we would never experience it again. I was ready to sacrifice everything for him. I had chosen him over my job, because someone else could do it, but no one could love me the way he loved me, no one could make me feel as special as he made me feel. I would take all the risks to be with him, because it was in his arms that I felt safe and strong, it was by his side that I could be fearless. He had transformed me.

I had always been a good girl. Obedient, good at school, pleasant and sensible. I only allowed myself to dream when immersed in my books. I knew my father had suffered from my mother's death and that he would never totally recover. I wanted to never experience such pain, the one caused by true love. It was the reason why I had accepted Lewis's advances. He liked me, I liked him, it was enough for me. We cared for each other, we loved to be together, but it was not passionate, and so I thought whatever happened, I would not be hurt. I was wrong.

War had opened my eyes on what I really wanted in my life. I had wasted too much time putting myself down, prioritising people's happiness over mine, running away from true love. I had finally taken my father's words into account, that life was too short not to do what we really wanted. Volunteering for the WAAF had been the first decision I had made according to this new philosophy. The rest had followed. I had finally discovered what true passionate love was. It was so exciting, so terrifying, and yet so wonderful. Loving a soldier was painful for I was always in a state of anxiety, worrying about his life, but it was worth every moment we could spend together.

I tried to convince myself that this new separation was just another hardship to overcome, as I clung to the handle of my suitcase. It contained several months of my life, memories of Duxford, a time that now belonged to the past. Things would never be the same as they had been. No more catching his eyes in a crowded room and experiencing that unique feeling, to know I loved him and he loved me back, that it was our secret and nobody had to know about it. No more furtive gestures of affection, no more meetings in a dark corridor or in the middle of the night to steal an ardent kiss from him. It would never be the same, and I could only pray that what we had lost would be replaced with something even better.

The sound of the locomotive's horn pulled me from my thoughts and forced me to reconnect with reality. The train that was to take me back home came to a stop in a screeching noise and all the passengers on the platform approached their coaches. I followed and climbed aboard with a heavy heart. I looked one last time behind me with some vain hope, but he was not there to say goodbye.


	14. Carefree

We were now in June, and sun had finally made its apparition in England. Londoners were enjoying those rare rays of sunshine on that sweet morning. Streets were buzzing with people going to the market, children playing on the sidewalk and cars hurrying on the road. If it was not for the posters displayed here and there, one would not think we were at war. I could almost forget it. I had always loved the month of June because I associated it with summer, end of school, the days out with friends, the sensation of liberty, the holidays in the countryside. But I was a grown-up now. Things had changed. More responsibilities, fewer friends, no more holidays. Yet, I still loved June as I did when I was a kid.

I took a deep breath when I walked by the bakery, inhaled the sweet smell of pastries and bread. I smiled at the two little boys coming out of the store with their ration of food, really proud to be in charge of the shopping for their family. Little pleasures of that kind were essential in time of war. I was still looking at the world through the eyes of a child sometimes, finding beauty in the little things of the everyday life, like the melody of a piano escaping from an open window, wind carrying petals in the air, the sweet sound of birds chirping in the tree above my head, fluffy squirrels chasing one another on the lawn of the park, the sun reflecting on the puddles. Everything was worth noticing. Everything played its part in the beauty of the world.

My attention was drawn to a man shouting behind his stand, on the other side of the street. He was surrounded by flowers of splendid colours, adding another positive note to the day, so I felt the need to buy some. I reached into my pocket to look for change and found four coins that I kept in my hand as I crossed the street.

"Hi! How much for these?" I asked, nodding towards a bunch of red, white and purple flowers with large petals.

"The beautiful anemones? Give me two shillings and they're yours," the seller told me.

"All right," I replied as I handed him the money.

He gratefully accepted it and grabbed the flowers I had chosen to wrap them into newspapers before giving them to me.

"Thank you," I politely replied.

"Always a pleasure to brighten a day," he said as he gave me a wink.

I resumed my walk, this time with a bunch of flowers in my hand. I probably took me twenty more minutes to reach the street I was looking for, with its rows of brick houses on each side. I went up to the end of the street, to the number twenty-seven, and climbed the few stairs to stop at the front door. I smoothed my cotton shirt, rearranged my hair and knocked on the door. The seconds that followed seemed like hours to me. I could not help but scratch my neck in apprehension at who would open the door, and I froze when I heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the wooden panel, hiding the flowers behind my back.

The door finally opened and to my great relief, it was her standing in the frame, and not her father. Her eyes widened when she realised I was there in front of her, as though she had just seen a ghost. No words could escape her mouth as she remained agape, unable to move, her hand still wrapped around the doorknob.

"Good morning, love," I greeted her.

A wide smile appeared on her face and responded to mine, and she threw her arms around my neck to welcome me in a warm embrace. I chuckled at her reaction and wrapped her into my arms, so happy to be reunited with her after more than a week apart. I kissed her and let myself relax under her soft touch. Her fingers grazed my neck and cheeks, then settled on my jaw and she deepened the kiss, pulling me closer to her. I drank in her perfume and the sweet smell of her skin as if I had been deprived of it for a lifetime.

"Who's it, Freya?" a call coming from inside cut our moment short.

"It's Andrew, Dad!" she yelled for her father to hear her. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, turning back to me, a wide smile still brightening her face.

"I've got something for you," I announced as I held the flowers to her.

She grabbed them and hold them to her heart, her sparkly eyes telling me how moved she was by my gift.

"They're beautiful, Andrew. Thank you. Come in, come with me," she said. She took my hand and dragged me inside with her. I observed her scanning the room for a vase in which she could put the flowers. She finally found one on the sideboard and filled it with water. She placed the flowers in it and carefully brushed the petals with her fingertips before looking at me.

"Did you choose anemones on purpose?" she asked.

"No. I didn't even know they were anemones." I laughed. "I just thought they were beautiful."

"Well, they are. You chose well. Do you want something to drink?"

I was not even able to reply that she was already grabbing a glass and walking to the sink.

"Look who's there!" a familiar voice startled me.

I turned around and discovered Freya's father coming my way.

"Glad to see you, son," he said as he vigorously shook my hand.

"Nice to see you too, Sir."

"Please, please, call me George. You're like family now," he kindly encouraged me.

"I will." I felt Freya's arm wrap around my waist, and I looked down at her. "Thank you," I said as I accepted the glass of water she was handing me and took a sip, more to be polite than anything, because I was not thirsty.

"So, are you going to tell us why you're here?" she inquired.

"Well, I am here because I wanted to surprise you," I playfully replied.

"But aren't you supposed to be in Duxford?"

"Your man got a week-long leave before being transferred to Merston. I came back yesterday evening," I announced.

"A full week? I'm so lucky!" she exclaimed.

"I was hoping we could spend the day together. Weather is perfect for a walk."

She looked at her father for approbation, and I did the same, waiting for him to express his thoughts on the matter.

"Don't look at me like that! Of course, you can spend the day with him! Enjoy your time together!" he finally announced.

"Thank you, Dad!" she exclaimed and kissed her father's cheek.

She ran to the kitchen, stuffed some food in a bag, then went back to the living room and grabbed her jacket. She stood in front of the door and gave me an insisting look, clearly indicating that she was waiting for me.

"Right! Let's go!" I said as I followed her. "Thank you, Sir. Have a good day!" I turned to his father before stepping outside.

"It's George! Now get out you two!" he shouted and went to close the door behind us.

Freya was already down in the street, impatient as a kid.

"Come on!" she insisted as she started walking away.

I smiled and joined her. Her fingers brushed the back of my hand, shyly asking for me to hold hers. She made my heart melt every time. I entangled my fingers with hers and kissed her forehead, something I could not resist.

"Let's go!"   
  
  


*****   
  
  


I stopped gazing at the sky and focused on Andrew instead. He was lying in the grass next to me, his hand holding mine. I observed his perfect profile, from his plump lips, his perfectly straight nose, all the way to his closed eyes. He might have been sleeping because he was not moving apart from his eyelashes shuddering from time to time. He was a very handsome man, in my opinion. From the way other women were looking at him sometimes, I was not the only one to think that, but I was not jealous because he only had eyes for me, and he made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the entire world. I hoped I had the same effect on him.

"What are you looking at?" he suddenly asked as he opened his eyes and gazed at me.

I blushed with embarrassment but did not look away.

"Oh, I see, you can't believe your man is so good-looking, right?" he teased me.

He enjoyed that teasing me, but I knew just as much how to do that.

"Actually, I was thinking that I prefer you with your hair not styled. I'm not a fan of the Brylcreem Boys look..." I replied.

I saw him blink as he processed the information and then, he rose to his elbow and looked down at me with surprise.

"All the girls like such look!" he exclaimed.

"I didn't say I don't like it. I said I prefer your natural hairstyle."

"I have spent so much time in front of the mirror for you this morning, and that's how you thank me," he pretended to be hurt.

"Stop playing the victim, you know I think you're handsome no matter what."

"Well, I'm not so sure anymore," he pouted.

"You can be sure!"

"All right, but you'll have to prove it to me so I can believe it, and I know a way..." he said as he ran his fingers along my arm.

I rolled my eyes at his cheeky remark and turned to lie on my stomach. Andrew followed suit, his eyes still fixed on me, waiting for an answer.

"Not until marriage," I announced.

He snorted at this recurrent joke between us.

"Count on it," he exclaimed. We both laughed before silence naturally settled again as we looked into each other's eyes.

"Why did you ask me if I chose anemones on purpose earlier?" he asked a moment later.

"Because of the meaning behind them."

"I don't know about that. What is it?"

"I read in a book that they symbolise the fear to lose the person you love, if I remember well, and your desire to be with that person."

"That must be true then, 'cause I don't want to lose you and I always want to be with you."

"Me too."

He probably figured out that I was already worrying about the time he would have to go back to war for he added:

"Luckily, we have an entire week to spend together, and we're going to make the most of it."

He paused and looked at his watch.

"Speaking of that, I need to ask you something."

I looked at him with curiosity, waiting for him to go on.

"My parents. They want to meet you. They asked if you'd like to have dinner with us tonight," he said, his fingers nervously playing with a stick he had picked from the ground. He looked like he was fearing a negative answer.

"I'd love to," I said, addressing him a warm smile.

"Ah, great! They'll be so happy to hear that. My mum was harassing me with questions, and she told me I had no choice but to come back with you, otherwise she would not let me in my own house," he chuckled.

"I wouldn't want you to sleep in the street. Let's go then, I have to go back home to change and to let my Dad know I won't be with him tonight."  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I had picked her up at the nearest metro station, and we were getting close to my house. Maybe too close considering Freya's change of attitude. Her body had tensed and she had slowed down when I had told her we were almost there.

"What's wrong?" I asked her as I forced her to stop and look at me.

She laughed nervously. "Nothing," she lied to me and forced a smile.

"Don't be scared, they already love you," I reassured her, knowing perfectly what was the reason of her uneasiness. "And you're so perfect, you'll charm them, that's for sure. Don't worry about that."

The smile she gave me this time was weaker, but sincere, and we resumed our walk to the house. I climbed the few stairs before Freya and opened the door for her. She quickly hid behind me when she heard footsteps coming our way, just before my sister Jane appeared in the hall with a beaming smile on her face.

"Here they are!" she exclaimed.

Her six-year-old son immediately followed and clang to her legs, looking at Freya with curious eyes. I stepped aside and pulled my girlfriend next to me, wrapping a reassuring arm around her waist.

"Freya, this is my sister Jane and her son, Charles. Jane, this is Freya," I introduced them.

Jane immediately came towards Freya and hugged her in a warm welcome, and I was glad to see my girl relax a bit with that sign of affection.

"Nice to meet you Freya," she said. "Come on you two, the rest of the family is waiting for you."

I took Freya's coat and scarf and then we proceeded to the adjacent room. All the eyes turned towards us when we came in, and my father was the first to come forwards.

"Here's the girl we heard so much about!" he exclaimed. "I'm Andrew's father. Arthur."

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Freya responded as she politely shook his hand.

And then it was my mother's turn.

"Hello sweetheart. I'm Catherine, but you can call me Cathy," she said as she hugged her. "And this is my second daughter, Mary, with her baby girl, Alice. And the shy angel hiding behind the sofa is Jane's daughter, our precious little Rose."

"I'm very happy to meet you all," Freya declared, gaining back her composure.

"So are we!" Mary replied.

"You're so pretty, my dear. My boy is very lucky!" my mother complimented her, causing her cheeks to turn red as she looked my way with embarrassment, for she was not used to receiving compliments from strangers. "Let's eat now that we are all here. Dinner is ready, and we will be able to learn more about you, darling," she added, inviting Freya and the rest of the family to move to the dining room.

I bent towards Freya as we followed, and whispered in her ear:

"See? I told you. Everybody loves you."

Everybody loved her, indeed. She had rapidly taken her marks, helped my mother in the kitchen, naturally talked fashion with my sisters, discussed literature with my father who had offered her to come to spend a day with him in his bookshop, which she had immediately accepted. My sisters had found an ally in Freya, someone who was always up to help them tease me as much as possible. Hence, she had quickly shed light on why I had hurried to the shower after my afternoon with her and kept my hair undone. If it wasn't for her angelic smile and the fact that she had defended me after that, I could have been upset, but there was no harm intended. She was just amused by how I had reacted to her remark on my hairstyle and how quick I had been to remove the Brylcreem from my hair routine. I did not care to appeal to women, I just wanted to appeal to her. She was the only one who mattered. If she preferred my sometimes-wavy hair, then wavy hair it would be. Besides, it would save me some time in the morning, so it was a win-win.

At the end of the dinner, I had followed my father into his library, leaving Freya with my sisters and mother. Our ritual after evenings like this one was to enjoy a glass of Scotch whisky, just the two of us. A man thing, my father liked to say. But this night, we had poured ourselves a drink and had decided to go back to our ladies. They had moved to the garden at the back of the house, to enjoy the warm temperature of early summer. My Dad and I had stopped at the door to observe them. My mother and sisters were sat on the bench, cooing at Mary's baby girl. Freya was running after Charles and Rose in the grass, playing with them. Her tinkling laugh mingled with their giggling and I could say I had never seen her happier. Her laugh was infectious and a smile quickly appeared on my face as I observed her catch Rose and raise her in the air before hugging her and tickling her until she asked her to stop. I was impressed by how spontaneous she had become in my family's presence. There was no apprehension in her eyes anymore. It was just pure joy. If it was what life had in store for me, for us, I was ready to commit immediately. I started projecting myself after the war, imagining how it would be to raise a family with Freya. It was not too hard with what I was witnessing just in front of me.

"You have to marry this one," my father said out of nowhere. "She's perfect for you."

With that, he walked down the stairs to join my mother, leaving me alone with my thoughts, as I tried to process the fact that my father had just given me his blessing to marry the girl of my dreams.   
  
  


*****   
  
  


Despite my efforts to try to change her mind, my mother had brought out the family photo album to show Freya pictures of me when I was a baby. It was so embarrassing I wanted to disappear from the room, but Freya seemed to enjoy discovering me a bit more through those childhood memories. Luckily, she thought I was cute on all of the photos, always raising her eyes to me to compare the little Andrew with the one I had become. The most embarrassing picture was probably that of my eight-year-old self, wearing a kilt too big for me so it looked like I was wearing a dress; but here again, she thought I was cute. She even expressed her desire to see me wearing one again. Her wish would be my command, for sure. They went through the multiple pages, commenting my teenage years and my achievements as a young adult, and they never got tired of it. When they reached the end of the album, my mother got a bit emotional. She grabbed the last picture and handed it to Freya.

"He's not a baby anymore in this one,"

"No. He's not," she replied as she looked at me with admiration in her eyes.

"He's a grown-up. A soldier. It was taken the day before he left for Duxford. I wanted one last photo of him to complete the album, you know..." my mother continued.

"Mama! Don't talk as if I were dead. I'm right here!" I stepped in.

"You're right! Sorry my boy. I know you're there. I know..." she apologised.

I went to sit next to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders before kissing her on the temple.

"Now, show me that picture! Why is it making you all emotional like that?" I asked.

Freya gave me the picture. It was a portrait of me in my RAF uniform. My first time wearing it. I remembered being so proud that day, I did not want to take it off. I was parading in the house to the detriment of my mother who was broken at the idea of having to let her only son go to war, but she had taken me to the photographer nonetheless, and she had told me how proud she felt. The scene was still intact in my memory. I was trying to look serious on that photo, chin up, frowning a bit, but the true Andrew had reappeared when my sister had made a silly joke and I had lost all of my countenance just when the photographer had released the button. The result was a picture of me not facing the camera, looking away, with a wide smile on my face. To sum up, not professional at all. But it was the one my mother had decided to keep because she said it was epitomising who I was. 'My happy little boy,' she had said. I had never seen it developed until that night.

"That's so perfectly you," Freya commented.

"Isn't it?" my mother added. "That's what I told him. It perfectly captures his happy soul."

"I wish I had a photograph of you like this one, to keep me company when you're away," she let out, observing the black-and-white print in my hands.

"Wait, I've got another one!" my mother exclaimed. "Just let me find it."

She got up and left the living room.

"She's got another one?" I asked my father, who laughed at seeing me so incredulous.

"She loved it so much, she bought five copies of it, in case she lost one she said," he explained.

"That's Mama," I laughed. "I shouldn't be surprised."

Seconds later, my Mum was coming back with another copy of the photograph which she gave to Freya. There was something symbolic in that act, as if my mother was entrusting me to my girlfriend, accepting the fact that it was now Freya's turn to look after me, that I was not her baby anymore, but the man she could see in that photograph. A man. A soldier. And, one day, a husband, she hoped.


	15. Responsibility

I was back at the train station, saying goodbye to my father, but this time it was only for two days. Andrew and I were going on a trip to visit Farrier's parents, who lived in a small town somewhere above Manchester. Andrew had to give them their son's belongings and he had asked me to come with him, for moral support. We were now on the departure, about to board the 10 am train that would lead us to the North of England, and my father was talking to Andrew.

"Take care of her during those two days. And bring her back to me!" he warned my boyfriend.

"I will. I promise."

"Oh, and before I forget," he added as he fumbled into his pocket. He took some bills out and handed them to Andrew. "Take that. To pay the hotel room."

"Thank you, but I already have enough money for that," Andrew kindly refused.

"Enough money for you, no doubt, but my daughter needs to sleep somewhere too. And I am sure you were not planning to share the same bed, so here, take that," he insisted and placed the bills in Andrew's hand.

My boyfriend's face turned red as he understood the meaning behind my father's words.

"No, of course, that would be inappropriate. Thank you," he responded as he shook his hand.

I was mortified by his insinuation and direct warning to Andrew. As much as I loved my father, I hated when he kept on protecting me as if I was still a baby. I was a woman. Everybody treated me like one, except him on some occasions, but I swallowed my pride and kissed him goodbye before getting on the train.

Andrew and I settled in our compartment which seemed to be just for us. I sat next to the window and waved at my father as the train started moving. A few seconds later, he had disappeared, but his words stuck with me. I took a book out of my bag and tried to focus on my reading but I couldn't. Andrew, who had taken place in front of me, was observing the landscape through the window, his face rested against the glass panel, his eyes lost in the distance, thoughtful.

"I can't believe he said that," I finally let out, causing Andrew to abandon his contemplation.

"What?" he asked.

"About the hotel rooms! It was so embarrassing!"

"Every father would have said the same thing. He's just protecting his only daughter. I didn't take it personally," he replied with a smile.

"But I'm not a baby anymore. He can't tell me what to do like that!"

"He can tell me, and he has every right to,"

"You're not going to comply with that, are you?" I asked sceptically.

"I don't really have a choice here..." he sighed.

"But if I can't sleep in your arms tonight, when will it be? I know you want it as much as I do... like last time..." I pleaded.

"I do, but your father gave me his trust to take care of you. He expects me to respect his rules and I will. I don't want to take the risk to lose you," he explained.

"But—" I tried to discuss.

"No 'but', Freya. I won't change my mind," he almost scolded me like a child, leaving me speechless.

Andrew seemed annoyed, but resumed his contemplation, not paying attention to me anymore. I had been looking forward to this trip since he had informed me of his plan. It would have been just the two of us, like a true couple, but my father had ruined everything. Because of him, Andrew was distant and there was nothing of a romance anymore. Maybe it was childish of me, but I was a bit mad at Andrew for being so obedient this time. I wanted the Andrew who was ready to take risks for me, to defy authority, to forget the conventions... The one who had stood up to his superior days ago, but he was not there with me.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


As soon as I had stepped into that train, anxiety had overcome me. I had Farrier's belongings with me, Freya by my side to support me, but I had no idea what I would tell James's parents. What did you say to people who had lost their son? Pressure had made me silent, withdrawn, and Freya was the one to pay the price. I could see she was hurt by my behaviour but I could not do anything about it. I tried to appear a bit more cheerful at the idea of spending these two days with her, because I was happy, deep inside; I was more than happy, but first, I had that serious task to do and I could not think about anything else. It monopolised all my attention, and because of that, Freya was left aside. She stuck with me nonetheless. She had said nothing when I had walked ahead on our way to the hotel, leaving her behind, struggling to follow my fast pace. She had remained silent when I had asked for two bedrooms instead of one, just like her father had told me to do. She had taken things in hand when the receptionist had told me there was only one room available and I had almost lost my temper. I had practically yelled at her when I had tried to explain that her father would kill me if he heard about that, but she had managed to calm me down with her soothing voice and sweet touch. She had fixed everything with her indulgence and patience. Her respecting my desire to remain silent on our way to Farrier's house was very important to me.

Her encouraging look when we reached the front door gave me strength to ring the bell. It was nerve-wracking but I had to do it for James. She held my hand to stop me from clenching my fist to tight as a reaction to stress, until the door finally opened, revealing James's mother. It was too late to back down.

"Good afternoon Mrs Farrier. My name is Andrew Collins. I'm your son's teammate, from Duxford," I managed to introduce myself.

"Oh, Andrew! Of course! James told me about you," she smiled at me, before focusing on Freya.

"And this is my girlfriend, Freya Wright, also James's friend. She worked at Duxford with us," I hurried to say.

"Come in, come in! James's friends are always welcome in this house," she joyfully exclaimed as she stepped aside to let us in.

She led us to the living room where we met Mr Farrier. The exact portrait of his son, but with grey hair and an imposing beard. I quickly realised that he was just as nice as James and I felt more at ease.

We all sat next to the fireplace while James's mother went to the kitchen to make tea. Freya was naturally making small talk, praising the Farriers' home and commenting on the weather, while I remained silent, only nodding from time to time. When Mrs Farrier came back with a tray, she immediately started the conversation, as if she had been waiting to see me.

"So, you're James's best friend? He mentioned you in all of his letters."

"Really?"

"Yes! He always said that he had found a little brother in Duxford. He loves you very much."

I could not help but notice that she was still using the present tense when talking about her son. I would be careful to do the same.

"It's true we're very close," I started. "We met on our first day there. We shared the same room, as you probably already know. We immediately got along. I remember he offered me some shortbread. I think you made them, Mrs Farrier."

Mrs Farrier smiled at this comment.

"Oh yes, he loves my shortbread," she recalled. "Just like his father."

Mr Farrier smiled at his wife and then turned to me.

"I guess you're not here to talk about shortbread, boy, am I wrong?" he asked.

"No, indeed. I came to give you James's belongings. Thought you would like to have them."

"How thoughtful of you my dear."

I grabbed the bag placed at my feet and handed it to Mrs Farrier.

"There are some books, notebooks and photographs, and his uniform."

"Thank you, Andrew," his father said.

"What do you think happened to him? Do you think he's dead?" James's mother suddenly asked.

"Madam..." I replied, taken aback.

"Please, don't be afraid to tell me what you think. You were the last one to see him, I believe. I need to know," she implored me.

"Honestly ma'am, I don't know. James is a very skilful pilot, but he was left alone when I had to ditch, and with not much fuel. I was saved by a civilian boat, and I witnessed James still fighting in the sky. He saved many men that day, including me. I never saw him in a delicate position, and the last image I have is him heading to Dunkirk. Maybe something bad happened there, or maybe he didn't have enough fuel to come back. I have no idea, I'm sorry, " I explained.

"Harold thinks he's not among us anymore," she said, tears in her eyes, as she held her husband's hand. "But I can't accept my boy to be dead. I don't want him to be dead. So, I keep faith and I pray God every day to bring me my son back."

"Darling..." her husband tried to reason with her.

"He's just missing Harold. They told us he's missing."

"All right. I'm sorry."

"Listen to me, both of you," she switched her attention to Freya and me. "You're young. You're visibly in love. Don't waste your time. Enjoy being together to the fullest. You don't know what will happen tomorrow. You don't know if you'll still be able to see each other the following week. Look at my James. He was supposed to come home next week, but he won't. Had I known, I would have told him how much I love him. I would have done things differently... Do not live with regrets. This war... it changes everything. For all of us. There is no time for reflexion. Experience things. Experience... love! Don't waste time kids."

Mrs Farrier was very emotional, so we decided to leave her and her husband alone. We had taken enough of their time. After promising them to give news and exchanging warm goodbyes, Freya and I were off again, this time to find some place where to have dinner.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


We discovered it was raining when we stepped outside the inn later on, but it was really light, so we did not care much. We just enjoyed our walk together in silence. Cool raindrops against my skin felt agreeable after having spent too much time in a hot and noisy room filled with people. The setting sun was shedding a burning light on the buildings and trees. Everything was turned to gold.

I tightened my grasp around Andrew's hand and he pulled me closer to him to welcome me in his embrace. He was more effusive than at the beginning of the day, and I liked it. Out of nowhere, a raindrop bigger than the others crashed onto my nose. I raised my eyes to the sky just to be met by another raindrop on the forehead, and suddenly, it was pouring, catching us off guard.

"Oh, shit!" Andrew shouted as he realised how fast we were getting wet. "Come on!" he told me as he started running, holding my hand and pulling me behind him.

I followed him through the streets, slaloming between puddles that had already formed on the pavement, water splashing at my feet. My shoes were completely soaked, but I could not care less. In that moment, under that heavy rain, with my boyfriend by my side, I felt alive and happy.

After three or four minutes running, we finally found shelter in our hotel. We rapidly climbed the stairs that led to our room, almost bumping into some other guests. I let go of Andrew's hand when he closed the door of our bedroom behind us, and I tried to shake the rain out of my clothes. I heard him chuckle next to me and looked up at him to be met with his irresistible dimples and his laughing eyes fixed on me.

"We're a mess," he observed.

"Well, that was unexpected," I added and joined him in his laughter.

He grabbed a towel next to the sink and attempted to dry my hair with it.

"I don't want you to become ill."

I raised my head to look at him. To have such proximity with him again felt exhilarating, adding to that somewhat tension in the air due to the storm outside. Both of us could feel it. I scanned his features, not even trying to be discreet. Locks of hair were falling in front of his eyes, heavy with drops of water. Another drop had formed at the tip of his nose, that nose I loved so much for it gave him so much character. His eyes finally met mine, and I could see so much tenderness in them, more than I could ever expect. I stood on tiptoes and brushed my nose against his, chasing the drop of water from it, connecting our skin. Naturally, without asking anything, Andrew closed the gap between our bodies and kissed me with a passion I had never experienced before. We were back in our world, and only his lips against mine had significance. Thunder rumbling in the distance would not even disturb us the slightest. His hot breath against my damp skin felt like heaven, and all I wanted was him. All I needed was him. I would die for him, I was sure of that. Out of breath, I pulled away and looked into his eyes just to see them sparkle with desire, but he suddenly made a step back and focused on my wet dress.

"I should have given you my jacket. What was I thinking? You're soaked to the bones!" he exclaimed. "You should change into something else."

I nodded and left him to look for dry clothes into my suitcase while Andrew was removing his uniform jacket. He moved to stand in front of the only window of the room and focused his attention on the outside, turning his back to me. I knew what he had in mind. He wanted to follow my father's rules. I resigned myself to accept that nothing would happen during this weekend away, and so I started undressing by myself while he looked away. I removed my shoes first, then my cardigan. I unbuttoned my dress and let it slip to the floor. I was about to put the other one on when I suddenly felt Andrew's hands on my waist. I turned around and was pulled into his embrace. He started kissing my neck, finally succumbing to the temptation.

"What's going on?" I asked, not knowing why he was acting like that all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry, I just don't want to stay away from you. I can't," he explained.

I forced him to look at me, cupping his face with my hands.

"I don't want you to stay away from me either."

"But I don't want you to think that I only want you for your body..." he added.

"I won't. I know you," I tried to reassure him.

"I want to love you," he sighed in my ear, his fingers lost in my hair. "I want to respect you and worship you. I want you to be mine."

He avidly kissed me and I gave in to his touch.

"Then make me yours," I whispered against his lips.

I wanted him so badly my heart was about to explode. I took things in charge and started unbuttoning his shirt, sliding my hands under the fabric to take it off and throw it to the floor. The contact of my cold hands against his warm skin made him groan with surprise but he did not stop what he was doing anyway. He just pulled me closer, pressing his chest against mine. His right hand slid to the middle of my back to untie my bra and expose my body to him. I had never felt that confident in my whole life. I did not even try to hide from his gaze. When he was looking at me, I felt more beautiful than ever. Just the way he was devouring me with his eyes was so arousing, I could not wait anymore. I left his torso to reach lower for his trousers and fix the fact he was still wearing them, but he stopped me there, pulling my hands away. He smiled at my outraged expression and quickly explained:

"Slow down love, we've got plenty of time for that. Let me show you something first."

And with that he lifted me up and carried me to the bed, where he laid me down. He started kissing my neck, then my chest, to finally reach my stomach.

"Let me show you how much you mean to me," he added, before going even lower, where his heavenly kisses became impossible to resist.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


It was probably two or three in the morning, but I was still awake. I was lying on my back, Freya snuggled up to me, her head rested on my shoulder. She was drawing invisible lines on my body, following the curves of my muscles with her finger, in complete silence. As I observed her, I pulled the blanket up to cover her body, for fear she could be cold.

"Maybe you should sleep now, love, don't you think?" I softly asked her as I stroked her arm.

"I don't think so," she responded.

"And why that?"

"'cause I'll have plenty of time to sleep when you're away."

She always had the best answers. She always knew what to say to be right.

"Fair enough. What do you want to do then?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just stay like that for a while."

It was fine by me. I stared at the ceiling and its cracks, thinking about what had happened during the day, all the events that had taken place in this short amount of time. I started playing with Freya's hair, wrapping a lock around my finger, lost in my thoughts. It felt really nice being with her and enjoying the present moment, not worrying about life and war.

"You know, before I met you, I had learnt to never think about the future," I started, arousing Freya's curiosity. "When you're in a war, you don't think about it. You don't make projects, 'cause they could never happen, you know. You don't want to tempt death. You just live day by day. But when I'm with you, I can't help thinking about our future together."

She was now lying on her front, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on me.

"And what does it look like, our future together?"

"You're gonna be my wife, that's for sure."

"Oh really?" she couldn't help but smile. "Let me see what you've in store for us and I'll decide if I'm gonna be your wife then."

"We will have a flat. Our very own place, where I will come home to you during my leave and where we will be able to share the same bed all the time. I will build you a huge bookcase in our living room."

"I like that"

"And hopefully we will have kids. Beautiful kids, just like you."

"How many?"

"I don't know. Two. Or three maybe."

"Boys or girls?"

"I'd like one of both but it's not up to me."

"Fine, but in one condition..." she suddenly became serious.

"Tell me."

"We won't have kids if you're not home with me. I can't do it alone."

"No, of course! No way I'm letting you all alone with a child. We'll wait till the end of the war."

"Do you think it will take long?"

"For what?"

"For the war to end..."

"I hope not, 'cause I want kids with you," I tried to ease the atmosphere. "Maybe we've already made one and we don't know..." I smiled stupidly at my own joke, referring to what we had just done earlier.

"Okay, calm down, soldier," she rolled her eyes. "You better be wrong or else my Dad will kill you!"

"I'm not afraid of your Dad. I'll take my responsibilities!"

"Which responsibilities? How could you look after a child when you're still one yourself," she teased me as she straddled me and stuck her tongue out as a provocation.

"You're the kid!" I replied, mimicking her silly face and tickling her to make her regret her words.

She tried to escape from my reach, but I was too fast. I caught her in my arms and pinned her on the mattress, swapping positions, being the one on top this time. She could not escape me. I would torture her with tickles until she implored me to stop, which she quickly did between two bursts of laughter. We were now both out of breath, amorously starring at each other. She looked stunning in my shirt too large for her, her hair spread over the pillow in beautiful waves, her lips stretched into a dazzling smile. My heart skipped a beat at such vision. I needed to engrave it into my memory, forever.


	16. Departure

Those past days together had been magical, perfect, out of time. Spending time with the person you love, it was all life should have been about. You shouldn't have to prepare to say goodbye to the love of your life without knowing when you'll see him again. You shouldn't have to think that you were maybe living your last moments together. All the joy I had felt during this last week had been erased by this creeping fear that was eating me from inside. I couldn't believe that the day before, we were at the museum, having our best time. I had come up with the idea, and Andrew had immediately agreed.

We had walked around the rooms and admired the few remaining masterpieces, those that had not yet been evacuated to a safer place, always holding each other hands. This perfect afternoon was engraved into my memory forever. At some point during the visit, I had lost sight of Andrew and had decided to look at the Greek statues by myself while waiting for him. I could remember how impressed I was by the realism of the work, the softness of the curves, the perfection of the stone. I was mesmerised by these petrified characters and so I had let my fingers trace the reliefs of the white marble, enjoying its coolness against my skin. I had lost myself in the contemplation of a demigod standing just before my eyes when Andrew's voice had startled me.

"I leave you for two minutes and you already replace me," he had teased me, emerging from behind a statue.

I had chuckled and let him wrap his arms around me.

"Not to sound pretentious, but I'm more handsome than this naked guy trying to steal you from me," he had joked, as always.

"Don't worry, you're the only demigod I've eyes for," I had declared and kissed his cheek to back my words.

"You know how to talk to me," he had replied before kissing my neck in an exquisite manner.

The old lady supervising the room had cleared her throat to express her disapproval at our display of affection, causing Andrew and I to chuckle like kids. I had grabbed his hand and dragged him away, to discover another room and admire other treasures. I had been amused at the fact that he was unable to focus on the paintings more than thirty seconds straight, always turning his blue eyes back to me. He had found the very best excuse; I was his favourite masterpiece. But it was the day before, and it felt like ages ago. This afternoon at the museum had given place to something way less exciting for the both of us. The Collins's house was witnessing our last moments together and these precious memories, I had to store them in my heart, in my personal museum.

Andrew's bedroom was just like I had imagined. Quite simple, not much decorated, but just enough to know it was his bedroom. He had stuck pictures of planes on the walls when he was younger, making his mother furious because it would ruin the wallpaper, but he had never intended to remove them so she had forgiven him. A chest of drawers was covered with some books about aviation and plane toys. It was impossible to ignore it was his passion and it was amazing to see he had become the person he wanted to be when he was a boy. Of course, there was football too, as clearly stated by the ball and cleats stored in a corner, but what I loved the most in his room was the photograph placed on the mantelpiece next to the window; a photograph of Andrew with his two sisters posing on a beautiful beach. It had probably been taken fairly recently considering how mature Andrew already looked.

"Where was it?" I asked him as he was rummaging through his drawers to look for appropriate clothes to bring to Merston. He looked up to me to know what I was talking about.

"Scotland!" he said with a beaming smile. "In my hometown, actually."

"Really? You lived close to the sea?" I wondered.

"Yes, in a small fishermen town. We go there every summer normally. But this was taken the last time we went there, just before the beginning of the war," he explained. "We still have a house there, so it's pretty convenient."

"Oh, that's great!" I commented, putting the picture back on the mantelpiece, realising there was so much more to discover about him and so little time do so.

I turned to observe him stuff clothes in his duffel bag, preparing for his departure later that day. I had agreed to come to his house because I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before he had to leave, but I could not bear to see him actually getting ready to go away. I had forced myself to hide my sadness behind a fake smile but I could not do it anymore. I did not want him to go to war again. Andrew, on his part, did not seem upset at all, joking around and smiling all the time.

"Should I take several books with me?" he asked me. "Or just one?"

I did not reply.

"One must be just fine, I don't even know if I'll have time to read anyway. I might be fighting all the time if it becomes worse," he laughed. "I need to take my revenge for what happened to me over Dunkirk!"

I stopped myself from saying something provocative and focused on the garden outside, that I could see from the window. I traced the tape that had been applied on the surface of the glass with my finger, wondering how that sticky thing would prevent the material from breaking if a bomb happened to be dropped close.

Music rose from downstairs and Andrew started humming the tune as he finished packing his bag. He threw it on his bed and came to me, gently grabbed my arm and tried to convince me to dance with him, but I did not want to, so I violently withdraw from his touch, turning my back to him to hide the tears that were forming in my eyes.

"Love?" he softly asked, surprised by my reaction and sudden change of mood.

I remained silent.

"Love, what's going on?" he repeated, gently rubbing my shoulder to encourage me to talk.

"How can you be so relaxed when you know you're going back to war?" I harshly said, giving him an angry look.

Andrew made a step back and withdrew his hand from my shoulder, as if hurt by my words. His smile had disappeared because of me.

"I'm not relaxed, Freya..." he whispered, his head down.

"Then why are you acting like you don't care?" I went on, now facing him.

"Because being sad won't change anything... So I can at least try to make good memories with my girlfriend, don't you think?" he softly said, reaching for my hand.

He was right. By being sad, I was ruining our time together, the few remaining hours that we had to enjoy but that I was incapable of.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered as I threw myself into his arms and clung to his jumper. He warmly responded to my cry for affection and kissed the top of my head to comfort me.

"You don't have to be sorry," he reassured me.

I inhaled his perfume, trying to engrave it into my memory.

"Trust me, I'm as broken as you are. But I was just trying to be strong for the both of us," he added.

"I'm so lucky to have you," I said as I took his face in my hands and observed every detail of it. He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and he brought my hands to his lips to tenderly kiss them, but he stopped when he felt something under his touch that he had never noticed before.

"You've got a new bracelet?" he asked, turning my wrist to observe the piece of jewellery that was there.

"Oh, I see..." he said when he realised my name was written on it. "Identity bracelet."

"Yes. My father got it for me. In case, you know... my body needs to be..." I tried to explain.

"Yeah, well, hopefully it won't be of use," he stopped me. "'Cause you're gonna hide in a safe place every time there's an air raid."

"Of course," I replied to try to reassure him and erase the worry in his eyes.

"At least, we've got something in common now," he forced a joke, trying to ease the atmosphere by referring to the dog tag he would always wear around his neck. "It's just a silly bracelet," he added, but this time I knew he was just trying to convince himself as he pulled me in his embrace and turned his eyes away. We remained silent for a while, just enjoying each other presence, not willing to leave each other arms, but at some point, a knock on the door pulled us out of our world and the spell was broken. Andrew's mother was standing in the doorframe, looking at us with tenderness.

"It's time to go lovebirds," she exclaimed. Andrew nodded and went to fetch his bag before reaching out for my hand and inviting me to follow him out of his bedroom.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


He was now wearing his blue uniform. This uniform I had loved so much on him but that I couldn't bear the sight of anymore. It hurt so much to see him that handsome in this military outfit because it meant he had to leave to fulfil his duty, while I just wanted him to stay with me. I kept a certain distance between us while he said goodbye to his sisters and his mother, hugging them tightly one after the other. I did not want to ruin their moment together, I knew mine would come, but I selfishly wanted to spend every remaining second in his arms. I looked away when his mother started crying because I knew I would be incapable of holding my tears any longer, so I tried to focus on something else, but I was surrounded by the same scenes everywhere I looked. Heart-breaking goodbyes between lovers or relatives, men heading back into a nightmare. I thought I could be stronger than this, but my heart was hurting to such an extent I could barely breathe. I could not endure such fear anymore at letting him go away from me, and a single tear rolled down my cheek to prove it, before a presence by my side pulled me out of my negative thoughts. The moment I dreaded the most was finally there and I could not gain any more time with my lover. Those were our last minutes together before an indefinite period apart...

Andrew took my hands in his own and sighed melancholically. Slowly, he pressed one of my hands against his chest, just above his heart and I could feel it beating so fast against my palm, I realised I was not the only one feeling this way.

"See, how scared I am to leave you?"

I raised my eyes to meet his. They were filled with tears too, and to see him so vulnerable for the first time broke my heart. He, who had always been so strong, who had never shown any weaknesses, was now crumbling in front of my eyes, and I had never loved him more than in that moment. 

"I'm going to miss you so much," I managed to express as my fingers clung to his shirt. "I'm going to miss you every second of every day."

"I'm going to miss you too, love," he replied with a trembling voice.

I suddenly remembered I had something to give him and reached into my purse to fetch the photograph I had placed there earlier.

"It's for you," I said as I handed him the black-and-white portrait of me. "I'll always be with you, wherever you are."

He took it and observed it for a moment before looking back at me, visibly moved by my gift.

"Thank you love, you're stunning in this. You always are. I'll keep you with me here," he said as he placed the photograph in his inner pocket. "Close to my heart."

The stationmaster suddenly announced that the train was to leave in a few minutes, and my heart sank. I looked at Andrew with fear, ready to let him know how scared I was, but he gently took my face in his hands and pressed his forehead against mine, looking intensely into my eyes.

"Always remember I love you. Never forget that, please. You're my world, Freya. My one true love," he declared before pressing his lips against mine. Tenderness gave place to passion, gentleness to ardency, as if it was our last kiss ever and we would never be able to express our feelings to each other anymore.

"I love you more than anything. More than you can imagine," I faltered through my speech before kissing him again. This time, his lips tasted like the sea, but I did not know if it was because of the tears streaming down my face or his. All I knew was that I did not want to leave his arms, I did not want to let him go. I needed him next to me every day of my life.

The dreaded sound of the whistle was heard and Andrew had to break our kiss.

"Already?" I exclaimed in despair.

"Wait for me, please," he asked me.

"I'll be there when you come back," I promised and we kissed again, with urgency and despair, until he could not delay the separation anymore. We blindly moved closer to the coach, not willing to break the connection between us, but eventually, his lips left mine and before I could realise anything, the thick fabric of his jacket slipped out of my hands and he was away, jumping on the train, the door closing behind him. He stuck his hand out of the window seeking for one last contact with me. I held it and pressed it to my lips as a sob escaped from my throat, crushed by the thought that I could not follow him. I walked next to the train as it started moving, still holding on to Andrew's hand, my eyes locked into his.

"Write to me," he reminded me, squeezing my hand.

"I love you," I said one last time, my voice heavy with sobs. "I love you Andrew!"

I started running next to the train not willing to let go, but I was suddenly snatched away from his touch, blocked by another girl that had stopped just in front of me. The last thing I saw was Andrew's lips moving as he replied to me, but his voice was covered by the screeching sound of the train in movement. His face and waving hand quickly faded away as the convoy exited the station, leaving a hole into my heart. It felt as if someone had stolen a part of me, as if I was not whole anymore without him. As everything became blurry around me, all I could feel was Jane hugging me to try to ease my sorrow while I broke down into tears because of the pain that had invaded my heart.


	17. Write to me

"Freya, you've got a letter!" my father yelled from the living room. I ran downstairs and burst in the room, snatching the envelope from my father's hands. I immediately recognised the handwriting and a beaming smile appeared on my face as I looked at my dad.

"It's him," I informed him as I jumped with excitement. I kissed him on the cheek to thank him for bringing me such uplifting news and ran back to my bedroom to be able to read it peacefully. I closed the door behind me and threw myself on my bed, already tearing the envelope open with my fingers, eager to discover what Andrew had written to me. Two stems of flowers fell on my chest when I unfolded the letter. They were forget-me-not of a luminous light blue that reminded me of Andrew's eyes, and suddenly, his absence was deeply felt. But I had his letter, and I knew that for a moment, it would be as if he was with me.

_"My love,_

_I wrote this letter as early as I could. I'm very sorry that it took me several days to do so, but life in Merston is pretty intense with all the training and missions we have to do. I have to confess that I immediately fall asleep when I can finally lie on my bed, but you shouldn't blame me because the faster I fall asleep, the faster I meet you in my dreams. It is honestly the best moment of the day because it feels like we are reunited again, and I can't wait for this to be real one day. I'm sure it will be soon._

_I hope that you're doing well in London and that you're safe. Please, be careful and rush to shelter as soon as the sirens are heard. I don't want anything to happen to you, I couldn't bear it, especially since you're so far from me. Sometimes I fly over destroyed cities and it's a very sorry spectacle to see. I can't believe what's happening to my country and my people... I'm really glad to be a spitfire pilot because I'm not the one dropping bombs on innocent people. I don't know if I could do that... You're going to tell me that I kill people too, but I kill the enemy, and in the sky, when we are both pilots fighting over the clouds, we're equal. We just have to pray to be better than the other. I've been lucky so far, I guess. I shot down a 109 two days ago. My teammates and I are running some sort of contest on who gets the most planes. I'm proud to say that I'm the best so far. I've been upgraded to squadron leader, and it's been a great honour. It's also a lot of pressure because my teammates are counting on me and I can't let them down, but there's no place for doubt when you're up in the sky fighting for your life. Also, it means I'm earning more money. Thanks to that, we could think about having our own place maybe. Would you like it? Of course, I would pay for it, you wouldn't have to worry about anything._

_I'm sending you flowers I found next to the hangar yesterday. I know you love flowers and I think these are very pretty, delicate ones. You probably know what they are, but I don't. I'm better at planes than plants. I hope you'll like them and that they'll bring you some joy and make you smile. I really miss it, your smile. I miss everything about you. You couldn't make me happier by giving me a photograph of you. It's right next to my bed and you're the first and last thing I see every day, and I always bring you with me when I have to fly, you know, close to my heart._

_I don't have any more sheets of paper, so I'll have to stop there for now._

_I love you more than anything in the world, more than flying, more than Scotland, more than anything. I truly do love you Freya._

_Please stay safe,_

_Your pilot."_

I pressed the letter to my heart and closed my eyes. It was as if I could hear him pronounce those last words, tell me that he loved me. If only he was there with me, I could cover him in kisses to show him how much he meant to me, but I had to wait. I reread the letter, three or four times again as I wanted to remember every single word he had written. Then, I carefully grabbed the dried flowers and placed them on my bedside table, just next to Andrew's photograph that was now in a beautiful frame, the nicest I had found. I brushed the glass from the tip of my finger, tracing his jawline, and I lost myself in contemplation. When I closed my eyes to try to see him in my memories, flashbacks of our last days together came back to me. I could picture him perfectly but not without my cheeks turning red. It was as if he was there again, his athletic frame towering over me. I felt like I just had to extend my hand to brush his torso from my fingertips. I could see the tensed muscles in his arms, the chains hanging at his neck, swinging in front of my eyes, following the movement of our bodies. I could see myself wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead, where locks of hair were stuck. I could remember his dazzling blue eyes locked with mine, making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I could hear his heavy breathing in my ear, in harmony with mine, and feel his soft skin against my skin. I wanted the warmth of his body again. I needed the softness of his touch and the sweetness of his kisses. I missed him more than anything in the world.

I quickly opened my eyes for it was not the time to fantasise about such things. I got up and placed the letter on my desk since writing a reply was the first thing I intended to do when coming back from work. I grabbed my purse and left my bedroom, heading downstairs. My father was still reading the newspaper in his chair, next to the window.

"I'm leaving for work, see you tonight," I let him know as I put on my hat.

"Are you all right, darling?" he asked me, visibly concerned.

"Yes, why?"

"You look all... flushed," he explained, gesturing toward my face, causing me to turn even redder. There was no way he could imagine what made me look like that, and I had to find a good explanation that would stop him from asking questions.

"I'm just late for work, Andrew's letter made me forget what time it was," I lied, faking a laugh.

"Then go, go. I'll see you later," he told me and went back to his reading.

I rushed out and headed to the nearest underground station, incapable of thinking about something else but Andrew, and already mentally writing my response to his letter. And so our correspondence began.

" _My sunshine,_

 _You can't imagine how happy I was to receive your letter. You brightened my day to such an extent, I couldn't erase the big smile that you were responsible for from my face. I was so happy my colleagues thought you were already back home. Yes, I started a new job. It's not really a job because I'm volunteering, but I'm really glad to do it. I'm part of the Women's Voluntary Services now and it keeps me very busy, which is for the best because I've less time to worry about you and feel sad because you're not there with me. Of course I miss you, and, of course, I'm sad. You know me... I try to convince myself that you'll be back sooner than later, but I've trouble sleeping, because of the planes and air raids, and because every time I close my eyes, I remember the day you left and it hurts me so much I always end up crying..._ "

" _Please don't cry about that, my love. I know it's hard but be sure that I'll come back to you. Every day brings me closer to you and I can't wait for the day I'll be back in London to spend some time with you. I'm really proud of you, of what you achieve and do every day for your community. But please, promise me to be safe! I received a letter from my mum and she told me a member of the WVS was killed last week in our neighborhood... Please, be careful._ "

" _Yes sir, I'm careful. Don't worry, when you're not the one reminding me of that your family does it for you. I really enjoy spending time with them. I feel like your sisters are my sisters too. They're so lovely. We spend most of our time talking about our lovers and it feels good to be able to share my sorrow with people who understand me. Your sisters are always there for me, to cheer me up and I couldn't be more grateful. Moreover, they remind me of you and it's always nice. Sometimes I see you in Jane's eyes or smile, and I hear you in Mary's laugh or in the way your father speaks. I miss you._ "

" _I'm really sorry that I can't be there for your birthday, my love. We will celebrate it anyway, when I'm back. We'll go to your favourite place, maybe go back to the museum? Or we could just spend the day cuddling in bed. I'm kidding, I'm pretty sure you will want to do a lot of things. Did you get my present? I hope my mum gave it to you. She must have so I can talk about it without spoiling the surprise. I chose it to replace the necklace you gave me, so that you too have a lucky charm close to your heart._ "

" _I love the locket you got me. It's so beautiful Andrew, so precious. I cherish it, more than anything. It never leaves me, and without even noticing, I'm always holding it in my hand. I love it, you couldn't make me happier. It's the perfect present. Every time I feel down, I just have to open it to see your face and I immediately feel better. Thank you so much my love for being so thoughtful. I love you._ "

" _I miss the good old days in Duxford, pretending there was nothing between us before meeting you behind a closed door to finally be able to kiss you. You made every day so much better. I miss Farrier too. I've made new friends here in Merston, but it's different. It will never be like what I had with James because nobody cares like he did. I don't want to find anyone like him anyway. It's just, I didn't realise how lucky I was to have you both at the time."_

" _I hate being far from you, but you still have me with you. My heart is with you, I gave it to you. I'm there even if you don't see me, and I know you're with me even from afar. I think about you all the time, when I wake up, when I dress up, when I eat, when I work, when I read, when I wait for the air raid to be over. I always carry your last letter with me, to be able to read it if I've to run to shelter. You can bet I read them a lot, but I don't mind. People are not letting those recurrent attacks ruin their moral. We may have to live like rats in the underground, but we still make jokes, we sing, we dance, or we sleep until it's finally safe to go outside, but what I prefer is to read your letters, because it helps me breathe properly. Your words soothe me. Until I've to go outside and see all the damages. But then again, it's you I think about."_

" _Oh, how I wish you were there with me tonight... I need you by my side... We lost one of our teammates today. Shot by a German plane just in front of my eyes. I saw his plane drop down and crash into a field... His name was Tobias, he was twenty-eight. He had a wife and two kids. One was born two weeks ago. He hadn't got the chance to see him yet. A little boy that will never know his father... It's so unfair! How long is this war going to last? How many lives do we have to lose before it ends? Don't we have suffered enough already? I can't imagine how destroyed his wife will be... Today it was Tobias, but what if tomorrow it's me? I don't want you to have to go through this Freya, I don't want you to suffer because of me. What we're doing, this war, it's nonsense. How I wish you were there with me, to take me into your arms. Your touch always appeases me and it would be of need now._ "

" _I don't know how to help you and make you feel better... But you're the strongest person I know, because even through these hard times, you rise. You stand strong and you continue to serve your country. Knowing you're doing so much to protect the people you love and your country helps us work twice harder to help as much as we can in our own way. I know where your kindness and strength come from. You're the exact portrait of your mother. Ever since you introduced me to your family, she's been so nice to me. She's the mother figure I've never had. Learning to know how a mother-daughter relationship could be, sharing such sweet moments with her, it makes me very emotional. Meeting you was a true blessing. Did your mother tell you she offered to make me a new dress? She said I deserve to have beautiful clothes so she used old curtains to make me one. She took my measures like a true professional. I can't wait to see the result. She's so nice with me, my love. I wish you could be there to share those moments with me._ "

" _My mother loves you very much. She always talks about you so it's no surprise she wants to please you. You know, she already has two girls, and she always wanted to have another one, but she got a boy instead (sorry mum). You're like a daughter to her, she always tells me that I'm very lucky to have you and that I couldn't find a better partner. I agree with her._

 _It's been four months now. Time goes by so quickly but so slowly at the same time. Can you believe it? Four months? When I think about it, it feels like ages ago. And sometimes, I feel like I had to leave yesterday. Still I miss you and I can't wait to go back home. It should be soon now. I asked for a leave and they probably can't refuse it, so see you soon my love. I can't wait to hear your voice again and kiss your pretty face until you're sick of it. Be ready. I'm coming home._ "

I put my pen aside and folded the piece of paper before sliding it into the envelope I had already prepared. I had never written that much in my life and it was all for her. I could only send like two or three letters per month because it took some time to be delivered, and then I had to wait for Freya's answer, but these letters were several pages long. I would tell her all the interesting things happening in Merston while waiting for her letter, and when it would be there, I would just add to my letter by replying to her questions or the things she would tell me.

Obviously, my mates would make fun of me when I would decline their offer to play cards just to be able to continue writing, but these letters were the only material things Freya and I could share. There had been times when they had tried to prevent me from writing to her or reading her letters. Like that one time Gerald had taken Freya's letter from my hands and read some very intimate things out loud, so the whole team could hear it. Yes, I had lost my temper and almost hit him in the face. I was so mad our friends had to hold me back and ask me to let go of him. It was hard enough to be away from her, I didn't need them to make fun of her in my face. I think they got it after that because they never tried to steal my letters ever again.

I was supposed to be with her in a bit more than a week, and I was praying for everything to be fine until then. I hadn't told her I was sure to come home because I wanted to surprise her. I had something in mind that I had wanted to do for a while already, and I just couldn't wait any more. This secret I had shared with my whole family, it was time I shared it with her. I had no plan, just things that I wanted to tell her. I had thought about which words to use, the best way to express my feelings to her, and I couldn't wait to speak truly. But first, I had to stay alive until I could see her.


	18. Ice and fire

London was so quiet at night, only my laughter was breaking the heavy silence that reigned at that time, the result of the blackout instituted by the government. Joseph was making me laugh a lot with his silly jokes, and the couple of pints of beer I had had after my shift were not helping. I had met Joseph at my second workplace. He was a bartender where I was a waitress and on my first night, he had offered to walk me home since the dark streets were not really the best place for a woman to be alone. He had done so ever since, always walking with me even if it wasn't on his way home. The twenty-minute walk always went quickly with him by my side for we had no difficulty finding things to talk about. Our respective families, our life, but mostly the clients of the night.

"That guy, the one who drank five whiskies, he was such an arsehole!" he changed topic.

"Moustache guy?" I asked, having a slight idea of who he was talking about.

"Yeah, that pretentious cunt," he added.

"He was an arsehole, yes. He grabbed my ass when I served someone next to him, can you believe that?" I said angrily.

"No, really? I'm so glad Billy beat the shit out of him then. Fucker!" he exclaimed. "Oh wait, that's why he did it, isn't it?" he then realised.

"Probably. I don't know. It wasn't the only thing he did to piss Billy anyway..."

"You better not piss Billy! Even more when you're in his pub!" he observed, boxing the air to mimic our boss, making me laugh again.

"Well, Lady, here you go!" he said as he stopped on the sidewalk opposite of my house. "Have a good night, beautiful."

"Thank you Jo'! Have a good night too," I replied and hugged him goodbye.

Joseph replied to my embrace before stepping back, an anxious look on his face.

"There is someone sitting on your front steps," he whispered, his eyes fixed on something behind me.

I turned around to discover a dark figure standing up and slowly going down the stairs. Only the incandescent end of his cigarette shed a weak light on his face, but I wasn't able to recognise him. His tall athletic frame reminded me of someone I knew really well but it was probably just my imagination playing a trick on me. I was a bit frightened as the man kept coming closer but he stopped on the other side of the road, threw his cigarette to the ground and stuffed his hands in his pockets, just waiting there, carrying himself in a posture that seemed so familiar. Then, I recognised a RAF uniform, causing my heart to skip a beat. I was not dreaming, my intuition was not failing me, it was him. I crossed the road and threw my arms around his neck as I pronounced his name. His sweet smell brought tears to my eyes, but I forced myself not to cry. Andrew did not reply to my touch, his eyes avoiding me, his hands staying away from my body, in his pockets.

"Who's your friend?" he finally said. No greetings, no sweet names, nothing. Just a question.

I made a step back, feeling that he did not want my affection but not knowing why.

"This is Joseph, my colleague," I informed him. "Joseph, this is my boyfriend, Andrew."

"Nice to finally meet you Andrew! Freya talks about you all the time," he replied cheerfully as he extended a hand towards my boyfriend, but Andrew did not move and refused to reply to his friendly introduction.

"Thank you for walking her home," he said bitterly, wrapping his arm around my waist as if to prove something. "You should go, it's rather late. She's safe with me now."

Joseph smiled politely and busied his hands with his hat for good measure as I looked at Andrew with surprise.

"See you tomorrow Freya," my colleague told me before leaving us alone. Andrew immediately left my side and walked away to sit back on the steps.

"What was that?" I asked him, confused by his unusual behaviour. "Andrew?" I insisted but he did not reply.

Instead, he lit another cigarette and took a deep drag.

"And when did you start smoking?"

"When I felt I needed to," he answered, visibly fed up with my questions.

"But why do you need that?"

"Because I'm risking my life every day fighting in a war against Germany!" he snapped at me. "Are you satisfied enough with that answer?"

"I... Yes." I replied, completely dumbstruck.

The tension was unbearable. Every second of him ignoring me was a torture. He acted like a stranger, everything about him was different. He had gained muscles, I could see that, his hair was shorter, and his look was so stern, piercing, it made me uneasy.

"Who are you?" I whispered to myself, but he heard and for a brief second, I could see a glimpse of the real Andrew in his eyes, which, unfortunately, was quickly replaced by anger and toughness.

"I am who I am! Who else do you want me to be?"

"I don't know... I don't recognise you. You've never been so... bitter," I tried to explain.

"Well, maybe there's a reason I'm like that..." he sighed.

"Is it me? Is it because of Joseph? Because if it's the case, there's no—"

"I waited four hours for you!" he cut me short. "I went back home to surprise you but you weren't there!"

"I was at work..." I defended myself.

"I know, your second job... Your father told me. Why didn't you tell me you had a second job? Why is it a secret? I'm your boyfriend and I don't even know that! Even your father thought I knew! Who am I to you Freya? Don't you trust me enough?" he seemed hurt.

"I didn't want you to worry about me working at night! I thought you already had enough on your plate..."

"I'd rather want you to tell the truth than lie to me!"

"I didn't lie, I just didn't want you to worry for nothing. I was planning to tell you once you were home."

"That's your thing that, not telling me the important things," he showed me how upset he was.

"Could we please not fight for that? I won't hide anything from you anymore, I swear!"

"Really? Then why are you back so late? You were supposed to be home by nine according to your Dad, so I thought I would wait for you anyway. I just wanted to see you, I didn't care if I had to wait a bit more, but it's past eleven Freya. You arrived past eleven, laughing with some guy and hugging him, so what am I supposed to think?" he asked angrily.

"He's just a friend! You've got nothing to worry about!" I tried to reassure him.

"Is that what you told Lewis after we met? Did he believe you?"

His words were like a slap in the face. He was being unfairly mean to me, but I remained silent. I knew it was not my Andrew speaking. He said nothing either seeing the look on my face. Was it pain I was showing? I didn't know, but his look suddenly softened and his shoulders dropped because of the guilt he probably felt. I climbed the stairs and walked past him, letting my hand brush his shoulder to show him I was not mad. I stopped in front of the door and observed him. He looked very stressed, running his hands over his face. I could not bear to see him so unwell. I loved him and there was no point fighting like that.

"Maybe you should go home and rest," I suggested. "I'm really sorry I wasn't there to welcome you tonight. I didn't know you were coming home. Had I known, I would've been there, you know it. But I didn't know, and I missed you so much, I needed to be busy and surrounded to avoid being alone with my feelings. But I'm really glad you're back..."

I said nothing more and went inside. I was about to close the door behind me when something blocked me. Andrew had slipped his arm through the half-open door and was now standing in front of me. He was not angry anymore but was nervously running a hand in his hair, trying to hide the sorry look on his face.

"I'm the one to apologise," he started. "For my behaviour and for what I told you. I didn't mean it. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at war, at how it prevents us from seeing each other. I know it's not fair to put that on you, it's just... I was really looking forward to seeing you again, you can't imagine, but nothing happened as I had expected and I just made it worse... And I'm really sorry for that," he concluded, looking at his feet.

"I forgive you."

He looked at me with genuine surprise, probably thinking he had lost me because of his outburst of anger and jealousy.

"There's no point fighting," I told him. "We already spend enough time apart not to waste the little time we have together."

He nodded in agreement and took a step back.

"Let's start it all over again, shall we?" he suggested before closing the door between us to show what he had in mind.

I heard him walk down the stairs and everything became silent again, as if I had dreamt it all. My heart was beating so fast with anticipation I had difficulty breathing. Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I heard his steps getting closer. He lightly knocked on the door, like he had planned to surprise me in the first place, but I was unable to make a move, too scared to discover he was just an illusion. I forced myself to be brave, took a deep breath and finally opened the door. He was there and it was as if I was discovering him all over again. The sweet smile he gave me made me cry even more for I had forgotten the effect it had on me.

"Don't cry love," he comforted me and took me in his arms. "I'm sorry. I really am."

But it was not sadness I was feeling, it was relief. Relief to have him with me, in one piece.

"I'm happy," I let him know. "I'm just happy!"

Andrew smiled at me and wiped away my tears before kissing my cheeks and finally my lips. Feeling him again after so many months apart was so much better than what I had expected. One kiss and all the previous fighting had disappeared. This, was more important. We were more important, and we knew it. We did not need words to know it. Only touch, only looks and kisses. That was all we needed to know. We were back together and we would make the most of it. He was here now, and there was no way I would let him leave me, even for a night. Encouraged by the way I was slowly moving towards the staircase and dragging him with me, Andrew closed the door behind him and followed me to my bedroom.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I woke up next to her that morning. I was facing her back and I realised I had slept with her in my arms the whole night. Her body was softly rising and falling with each breathing, so peacefully and regularly that I was hypnotised. How stupid I had been to doubt her. Being far away from her had made me jealous and insecure, but I had no reason to be, especially as she was now there with me. I observed the beauty spots on her back, her very own constellations, and I knew I would end up knowing them by heart. I did not dare to move or touch her for I did not want to wake her up, so I admired her awhile longer: the delicate curves of her hip and shoulder, her wavy hair hiding her gracious neck, the perfection of her fingers resting on my arm, until they left me when she slightly moved against me. She stretched her legs and turned on her side to face me, and then I was met with her stunning golden-brown eyes.

"Good morning handsome," she said in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning beautiful," I replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, very well. First time in months," she answered.

"Me too. Even if you took all the space in the bed," I joked.

She laughed so genuinely my heart melt.

"It's because I wanted to be close to you," she added, touching my nose with the tip of hers.

The way she was looking at me would always make me forget the rest of the world around us. I had come back home for her, so she would be my only preoccupation for the days to come.

"I hope my father didn't notice you slept here. He might want to kill you for sharing my bed," she giggled.

"Don't worry, I heard him leave earlier and last thing I know, I'm still alive," I joked.

"You look very alive to me," she confirmed before kissing me very sweetly, her hand settling on my jaw.

"I might be in heaven," I whispered against her lips, completely turned on by her touch.

"Oh no, trust me, you're not dreaming. You're lucky my father is a heavy sleeper, that's all."

"I was very careful not to make too much noise, but we don't have to worry about that anymore, do we?" I said suggestively as I let my fingers graze along her arm before kissing her again, but with more passion this time. She gave in at first but quickly calmed my enthusiasm.

"Later," she told me before getting up and escaping my touch, the warmth of her body still burning my fingers. I sighed and let my head drop on the cushion, a bit frustrated, but very much in love. I observed her gracefully put on my RAF shirt before extending her arms to the sky to stretch her body. She then grabbed my hat and turned to me before putting it on.

"Would my pilot want some breakfast?" she asked, posing in the middle of her room, one hand on her hip, the other holding the hat. But I was not listening. That vision of her, so radiant in my clothes, a beaming smile lighting her face, was the very reason I had done everything to stay alive. She did not know she was my greatest strength, but in that moment, I did realise that with her by my side, everything would be alright.

"Marry me," I let my heart speak for me.

Her arms dropped to her side and her eyes widened with surprise, visibly not believing what she had just heard, but I knew perfectly what I was doing. After my bad behaviour, I had ended up believing that I did not deserve to ask her such question, and had even less hope for her to say yes, but I could not keep my desire to myself anymore.

"Marry me Freya," I repeated as I got up and took her hands in mine.

"What? When?" She could not process the information.

"Wait!" I looked for my jacket and fumbled into the pockets to find the very object I had brought the night before, and I turned to show her the ring I had planned to give her, as a proof that my proposal was earnest.

"Oh my—" she exclaimed when she saw the shining diamond. "Andrew!"

"I always thought flying would be my only reason to live until I met you Freya. You've changed my life in every aspect and made it so much better," I started.

"You've changed mine too," she responded in a trembling voice.

"I just know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you and grow old by your side, even though I've more chances to die in my plane than peacefully in my bed... But if you're willing to take that risk and become my wife, you'd make me the happiest man in the world," I concluded, anxiously waiting for her answer which was quick to come.

"Yes! A thousand times yes!" she told me enthusiastically.

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed with relief before lifting her off the ground and kissing her with all my love. She was giggling with happiness against my lips, and I swore it was the most beautiful day of my life.

"Wait, wait, you need the ring, so we make it official," I observed.

She gave me her hand so I could easily slip the ring on her finger and then, she extended it in front of her to admire the stone. Luckily, it was a perfect fit.

"It's so beautiful! How did you manage to afford it? It must be so expensive!" she wondered.

"It was your mum's," I let her know.

"Really?" she asked, taken by surprise. As I had expected, the tears that had already filled her eyes started streaming freely down her cheeks and I couldn't resist taking her in my arms.

"How?" she mumbled against my chest.

"Your father gave it to me when I asked for your hand. It's not something I was expecting."

"Me neither," she admitted.

"He wishes us to be as perfectly happy as he was with your mother. And I thought you would love to have something that belonged to her..."

"I do, I really do. It's the best gift. Thank you so much."

"You need to thank your father. Without his approval and this, I wouldn't have been able to make you happy like that," I explained.

"It feels surreal! I can't believe it's going to happen," she daydreamed as she admired her ring.

"I told you you would become my wife," I chaffed her.

"Look at you, so confident! Didn't it occur to you that I could've said no?" she teased me.

"Well, you didn't seem to dislike the idea when I told you what I had in mind... And I'm a spitfire pilot, I can provide for us! And you always say I'm handsome."

"You think I can't resist you?" she provoked me, leaving my arms to stand before the window. She pretended to observe something outside and lightly bent forward, just enough to reveal her exquisite curves under my pale blue shirt. She perfectly knew the effect she had on me. She wanted to play, but I knew just as much how to do that. I forced myself to remain cool and closed the gap between us, placing a hand on the small of her back. "Do you want to resist me?" I asked her.

She did not know what to say anymore or she liked the way I was following her game for she gazed at me with such intensity, I knew I, for my part, wouldn't be able to resist her any longer.

She pressed her body against mine, the thin fabric of my shirt being the only obstacle between our skins, and she stood on tiptoe to bring her mouth to my ear and whisper:

"I've no reason to resist you."

Her sensual voice left my whole body tingling. Her delicate hand caressed my arms all the way up to the back of my neck and she left kisses along my jawline before stopping, her lips only inches away from mine. Her eyes were sparkling with desire but before I could kiss her, she had escaped my touch and was heading to the corridor.

"Can I get my shirt back?" I asked as she was about to leave the room.

She turned around and kept walking as she gave me an adorable smile. She looked like an angel, but she was far from innocent.

"Come and get it!" she challenged me before disappearing to the bathroom. I immediately followed her, I had no reason to resist her either.


	19. A promising life

We arrived at my parents' house one hour late, and everyone was waiting for us in the dining room.

"I'm so sorry mum, we lost track of time," I lied as I greeted my mother with a kiss on the cheek.

"Of course, you did," my sister Jane whispered to me as I walked past her to take my seat next to Freya. The way she winked at me made me laugh for she perfectly knew what the real reason was. There was no point denying it, she had been there before me.

I was listening to my mother and Freya talking when Mary, who was seating opposite me, gently kicked me in the legs to have my attention. I looked at her with a questioning look, wondering what she was up too. "So?" she silently asked, pointing at her ring finger, waiting for me to spit it out, but I simply smiled and shrugged, thinking that would be enough of an answer. She visibly got it seeing how she jumped on her chair with excitement before leaning over the table to reach for Freya's hand.

"Show us the ring!" she exclaimed, interrupting their conversation and causing my mother and other sister to squeal with joy. Freya blushed and looked at me with surprise as I sighed because of my sister's absence of delicacy.

"I was supposed to announce it properly!" I reprimanded her.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait! That's exciting!" she replied.

"All right..." I forgave her. "Everyone, as you probably already guessed, Freya and I are getting married," I announced, taking Freya's hand in mine and smiling at her. She looked adorable with her rosy cheeks and her shy eyes, and I could not believe she was to become my wife.

"Congratulations you two!" my father said as he got up and laid a kind hand on Freya's shoulder and ruffled my hair as if I was ten years old. "Let me go to the cellar to see if I can open a bottle to celebrate!" he added with much enthusiasm.

"I've been waiting for that my whole life," my mother said, with tears in her eyes. "Seeing you both so happy fills me with joy."

"Thank you mum," I expressed sincerely for both of us.

Freya was showing her ring to my sisters when my father came back with a dusty bottle of wine.

"This is not the best but it's all I have, I hope you don't mind," he apologised in advance.

"French red wine, and you're telling me it's not the best you have?" I asked my father as I read the label on the bottle. "Are you kidding me? It's more than good!"

"Well, I think you deserve it," he simply replied. "I'm keeping a better bottle for the big day."

"Speaking of that, when is the big day?" my mother asked, eager to know more.

"We don't know yet," I answered, looking at Freya to guess what was on her mind.

"As soon as possible. We discussed it a bit and we just can't wait to be married," she admitted.

"I don't feel like going back to Merston without being able to call myself your husband," I declared.

"But will we be able to do that before the end of his leave?" she asked my parents.

"Of course, darling, of course!" my mother reassured her. "We can take care of everything!"

"We don't need much anyway, do we?" she looked at me to be sure we were on the same page. "I just need a wedding dress..."

"You can go buy one with Jane and Mary," I suggested.

"The thing is... I don't have enough coupons."

"Oh crap! I would have given you some of mine, but I need new clothes for the kids," Jane apologised.

"It's okay, I don't want you to give them up for me! My friend Eden told me that the RAF is lending wedding dresses to the girls in service who are to marry, but I can't do that anymore," she sounded desperate.

"We'll find a solution," I tried to reassure her, hating to be of no help at all.

"I guess I'll just have to wear something ordinary, but I've always dreamed of marrying in white..."

"Why don't you wear my old wedding dress?" Mary offered. "We can refashion it to make it your own."

"Really?"

"Yes! You've seen how good mama is with a needle and a thread. I've no doubt she can do something that suits you."

"You can use the fabric of mine too!" Jane was willing to help too.

"Are you sure?" Freya worried she would ask for too much from them.

"We want you to have the wedding of your dreams darling, so please let us help."

"But it will be too much work! I don't want you to feel like you've to do all that for me!" Freya insisted.

"It will be our pleasure, sweetheart," my mum sealed the deal.

And with that it was agreed, the wedding would take place in four days. We did not need something big, we just wanted to celebrate our love with our closest friends and family, prove that it was pure and unconditional. I wanted to show her that even if I was far, I was committed to our relationship and that whatever might happen, I would always be with her.

Our house was filled with joy. War was not one of our preoccupations and it felt good to be reunited with my family again, as it used to be before I joined the RAF. I missed it, but I was lucky to be able to come home and find it as I had left it. Lucky to know that the people I loved were together and hopefully safe. Lucky to be alive and to have everything I had ever dreamed of. I only had to enjoy it, my father talking about the books he had sold during the week, my sisters teasing me as if we were still kids, Freya telling my mother what kind of dress she was dreaming of. I enjoyed all of that while I could, until I had to steal Freya from my mum to fulfil our next task, which consisted in visiting a flat where we could move together as husband and wife.

My father knew someone who was looking to let one of his properties in a quiet neighbourhood. It was ideally located between Freya's house and mine so that we would be able to visit our parents easily. It was really important to me that Freya was not too far from her father because if we moved together, she would have to live alone most of the time. At least as long as the war was a thing. Once over, I would be there every day, but until then, she would be alone and she needed to be able to visit her father if she wanted to. I was asking her to leave all she had ever known to start something new with me, and I did not want her to regret her decision.

She couldn't stop talking on our way there, keeping me updated on the last gossips or commenting on the destroyed buildings we encountered during our walk, telling me the date when the bomb was dropped and if people had died. She knew almost everything. What struck me the most was probably the way Londoners kept on living as if nothing had happened. A house full of life just next to a completely destroyed one, children playing around a bomb hole, solidarity everywhere for the ones who had lost everything and most importantly, happy faces at every street corner. Freya was a perfect example of the Londoner's spirit. The way she was talking about all the horror with such casualness made me realise she had got used to it. Bombings, fires, shelters, casualties... All of that had become part of her everyday life, and I did not know if I was supposed to be scared or not.

We finally stopped in front of the building where my father's friend was waiting for us. He immediately came towards us to welcome me in a warm embrace.

"Andrew! What a man you're now!" he exclaimed, observing me from top to bottom. "Last time I saw you, you were smaller than me and now I need a ladder to look you in the eyes," he went over the top.

"It's nice to see you Mr Beltram! Thank you for planning a visit for my fiancée and I," I thanked him. I saw Freya's smile widen as I officially introduced her as my future wife for the first time. It seemed she loved hearing it as much as I loved saying it.

"Fiancée?" he repeated. "I always knew you would find yourself a gorgeous lady."

"I'm very lucky she found me," I corrected him.

He turned to Freya and bowed before her.

"It's an honour to meet you, mademoiselle," he greeted her.

"Nice to meet you too, sir," she chuckled as he kissed her hand. "I'm Freya."

"Gorgeous face and gorgeous name," he complimented her again. "I'll stop there or else your husband-to-be will think I'm trying to steal you," he chaffed me.

I rolled my eyes in amusement as Freya started laughing.

"Follow me lovers, let's see what your future home looks like."

We followed him to the third and last floor of the old building and entered a nice room with a wooden floor and flowery wallpaper.

"Here you go. This is the living room. Kitchen is there, opposite the bathroom," he pointed at our right. "If you go ahead and follow that corridor, you'll find the bedrooms."

Freya was already looking around, studying every element in the flat.

"Take a look around my boy," he encouraged me to join Freya by pushing me in the back. I did not argue, and I followed her to the kitchen. I let her take her marks and feel the space without me interfering for I did not want to influence her decision. I wanted her to find the place where she would truly feel at home. I remained silent, only agreeing from time to time to her remarks to show her I cared, discovering the place with her. The main bedroom was the final room we visited and where I finally allowed myself to speak.

"So, what do you think?" I asked her.

"I love it," she told me as she looked at me with sparkly eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes, I really do. It's perfect for us. I can see us live here."

"Perfect, 'cause I can totally see us here too," I agreed as I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her on the temple.

"Can we afford it though?" she worried about the money.

"Yes, we can, don't worry about that," I did not want her to think she would have to work more for us to pay the rent. I could take care of it.

"We're standing in our bedroom," I shared my excitement with her.

"I can't wait to decorate it," she replied, tightening her arms around my waist.

We were then joined by Mr Beltram and his profusion of joy, who was visibly fed up to be on his own.

"Well, kids, what do you think? Are you moving in?" he asked, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me in a paternalistic manner.

"Yes, we're," Freya answered for both of us.

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "I see it was Miss who had the last word."

"Well, we're both happy to—" I tried to correct him.

"Anyway, you're right my dear, this flat is perfect for you and your future husband," he focused his attention on her, not listening to me. "And I don't say that because it's my flat, but it was made for a young couple like you. It's cosy, functional and you've a second bedroom, which, I'm sure, will soon welcome a little baby," he went on.

I felt Freya tense under my touch when he pronounced his last words. He had tackled a very sensitive subject for a baby was the last thing we were considering in this time of war, despite our desire to become parents one day. I was scared she would shut off, but surprisingly, she just brushed it off and politely replied to the man.

"We'll see what God's plans are," she concluded.

After that, I made sure the conversation remained on the practical level for I considered Mr Beltram had already said enough. He agreed to drop the keys to my Dad the day after and told us that he could bring some pieces of furniture he had in store so we would already have things to move in. He was a very nice guy, but I was really happy he was not living in this building as well because he would have been at our door every day to talk for hours. Not that I was not friendly and did not want to talk to anyone, but I also loved to have some privacy and be able to live my life without having people inquiring after everything, like trying to know if a baby was on the way.   
  
  


*****   
  
  


We had made it back to Andrew's bedroom where we were finally able to rest. Our day had been very busy and to be able to do nothing was a luxury. I settled myself on his bed, my back rested against the wall and I spied at Andrew taking his jumper off before joining me. He sat with a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

"You look tired," I observed.

"I'm in fact exhausted," he rectified, a yawn following after that as to back his words.

"Those past months have been really tough..." he admitted. "I'm just glad they approved my leave. I couldn't have gone on like that forever."

"Like what?" I questioned him.

"Like flying four, five times a day. Not knowing what you'll encounter in the sky and ending up facing hundreds of enemies. Doing my best to save my life. Just surviving is exhausting."

He moved down and rested his head on my thighs, his head facing me and his sleepy eyes fixing me.

"I can't really rest when I'm there. I'm always on my toes. We never know when the telephone will ring to tell us to take off. And at night, we can't get the fights out of our heads. We're lucky if we pass out with exhaustion."

I gently caressed the top of his head, as if it would erase his worries. My touch seemed to appease him for he closed his eyes and let his body relax.

"You can rest now," I told him.

"When I'm in my bed, back in Merston, I think about you. Just you. I imagine that you're with me, it makes me feel better," he confessed.

"Well, I'm here now. I'm real. You don't have to worry about that," I reassured him.

"Come here," he told me, inviting me to lie down by his side, which I did.

I had hardly settled that Andrew had already wrapped his arm around my hip and buried his head in the soft fabric of my dress, just under my breast, purring with content. I ran a hand through his hair for I knew he liked that, and I observed him fall asleep. He looked so peaceful, so relieved here, by my side. If only it could be like that all the time.

I was exhausted too. Germans had given us a hard time lately with their bombings of London. It had happened almost every day in September, and each time the fear was the same, but I had buried it deeply inside of me because I needed to be strong. Strong for my father who was worried each time I left to do fire surveys and provide food to Londoners after the German attacks. Strong for my mother so she could be proud of me. Strong for Andrew who, daily, was facing so much worse. And when I was not on duty, I was working at Billy's pub, trying to earn some money for Andrew and me. I had not had a proper night of sleep for weeks, and I could feel it in my body. I closed my eyes for a minute, allowing myself to let go. Just for a minute, just enough to have a little rest, but I too fell asleep.

We were later woken up by Andrew's mother, with the sweet smell of tea and warm bread that she had brought to his room.

"Hello heavy sleepers," she said softly as I opened my eyes, Andrew still clung to me as if I was his pillow.

He grumbled like a child and refused to move.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

"It's almost time for Freya to go to work," she let him know and put the tray on the chair next to his bed.

"Already?" he expressed in disbelief.

"Time goes faster when you sleep, innit?" she giggled and pinched his cheek, forcing him to move.

He finally got up, enabling me to do the same, and he immediately went for the tea, swallowing the beverage in no time before having his heart set on the bread with butter.

"Thanks mum," he expressed, his mouth full.

"Andy, where are your good manners?" she scolded him, causing him to swallow his food and triggering me a laugh.

"Sorry Mum, but it's so good!" he apologised.

"Yes, yes, I know what you're trying to do there my boy," she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Bring the plates downstairs when you're done please," she told him before leaving.

We finished our meal in silence, too hungry to talk at the same time. Once done, Andrew turned to me and stared at me with puppy eyes.

"Do you really have to go to work?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, but I finish earlier today, eight instead of nine," I let him know.

"You can tell your friend Joseph, or whatever, that he doesn't have to walk you home. I'll be there," he said, pretending he did not care.

"I think he won't mind, he's not jealous," I teased him, causing Andrew to look at me with surprise, ready to ask me if I was being serious.

"I'm kidding!" I felt the need to reassure him. It might not have been wise to joke about that.

"I swear he better not try anything with you or—," he started losing his temper, but I stopped him right away, pressing my hand against his cheek to guide his lips towards mine and kiss him.

"I'm kidding," I repeated. "You've nothing to worry about."

He relaxed under my touch and gave me a faint smile.

"I know you are, but he should know I'm not the kind of man he can underestimate," he acted tough.

"Please, don't fight with him tonight," I told him seriously.

"Okay," he sighed, looking away.

"For real, don't look for trouble," I forced him to stare at me.

"I promise," he said, kissing me on the forehead before he got up to fetch the tray and bring it back to the kitchen.

"Come on, let's go," he invited me to follow him.

We went downstairs and I began to get ready to leave while he went to see his mother. When he went back, I was ready to go but I had no desire to leave his side. Luckily for me, he decided to escort me to the underground station to spend as much time as possible with me.

"Mum, I'll be back shortly," he announced as he closed the door behind us.

As we started walking, he casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders to bring me closer to him and keep me warm. I reach for his hand and entangled my fingers with his as to be sure he would not disappear. Even though I knew he would be waiting for me at the end of my shift, I was always scared he would have to leave for an emergency, but he was there now, and I listened to him talking about his evening plans. Dine with his sisters and parents, play with his nephews, everything but to stay alone. His family meant the world to him, and it was one of the reasons he had stolen my heart. Family was the most important thing one could have in life, and he knew it. The fact that he had introduced me to his relatives so rapidly had moved me and proved me he genuinely loved me, and I did not need anything else. I was happy just like that.

"See you later, love," he told me as we stopped at the top of the steps leading to the station.

"I can't wait to see you in a few hours," I admitted before giving him a quick peck on the lips to say goodbye. I turned to leave but Andrew grabbed my hand to hold me back.

"Wait," he pulled me back in his arms and leant forward to kiss me properly this time. His hands found their place on either side of my face to deepen the kiss in a passionate and sensual exchange that left my knees weak and my cheeks completely flushed.

"You can go now," he let me know as he bit the inside of his lower lip to repress a smile. He was visibly proud of the effect he had on me.

I left him with regret to enter the underground station and hurried to catch the next train. I sat in the wagon, completely troubled by what had just happened. Andrew had been very effusive since his return, and I could not complain because I loved his hugs and kisses. But that kiss, the one he had given me to say goodbye, it was the type of kisses we only had in private. It was the way he kissed me to tell me how much he loved me, to let me know he wanted more. It was the type of kisses that I could not resist. They made me so feeble, and it worked every time. It was all I could think about now, him and how I desired his kisses.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Minutes seemed like hours since I had arrived at the pub. I really had no desire to work and I just wanted my shift to be over so I could be with Andrew again, but I still had forty-five minutes to go before I could leave. I was staring at my engagement ring again when Joseph called me.

"Freya, a man at the small table at the back of the room ordered a beer. Bring him and ask him if he wants to eat something while you're there," he told me as he handed me the overflowing pint of alcohol. I nodded in agreement and headed to where the client was seated. He was reading the newspaper, his hat and coat still on, and did not move an inch when I approached his table. When I put the pint in front of him, I cleared my throat to let him know I was there, causing him to finally pay attention to me, but I immediately regretted my decision.

"Thank you, babe," he told me as he put his reading aside and looked intensively at me.

"Lewis..." I sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"Just eating, like everyone else. Why that?" he tried to act smart.

"There are plenty of pubs in the neighbourhood, why this one? It's not even fancy enough for you," I forced him to be honest with me. I did not want to play his wicked game.

"Because I wanted to see you," he admitted. "I miss you."

"Well, I don't," I ignored him. "What do you want to eat?" I asked.

"Oh come on babe! Not even a little?" he insisted.

"Not at all," I repeated coldly. "I'll get you today's special," I said as I turned around to go back to Joseph.

"Give me the dish of the day, please," I dully asked my colleague who suddenly looked at me with worry.

"You alright there, girl?" he tried to know what was the matter.

I sighed, arguing whether I should tell him for Lewis or not, but I decided not to.

"Just a rude customer that I don't really want to serve," I partly lied.

"Well, I'm afraid you have to, 'cause I really need your help there. You're the only waitress at the moment, remember?" he reminded me.

"Yeah, I know. I'll do my job, don't worry about that," I reassured him as I grabbed the plate that had been sent from the kitchen. I had already left when he added:

"Tell me if he's being insistent, I'll get him out of here."

I just went to Lewis's table, gave him his food and greeted him with an "enjoy" that I did not mean. He tried to hold me back, but I managed to escape his touch. I pretended he was not there as I busied myself in the room, cleaning tables or helping other customers until I had nothing else to do and had to go back behind the bar and wait. Joseph had taken his break and was nowhere to be seen and I had to stay there to serve customers. I thought I would be fine by myself until I saw Lewis coming my way and taking place at the bar just in front of me.

"I really need to talk to you Freya, please," he implored me but I ignored him.

"I really messed up with you, I know that. But I've changed, I promise."

"It's too late," I replied.

"Come on, you could give me a second chance," he insisted.

"No. Stop that, it's too late! I told you."

"It's never too late! I would do anything for you!" he tried to convince me but I just wanted him to go away.

"Get over it! You know I've someone else now, so leave me alone and find yourself a new girl," I told him.

"He's not the man you need, babe. I saw him. He... He just seduced you because he wanted to know he could. He's probably doing that to other girls now, where he is. He won't give you anything serious, but I will—"

"And how would you know?" I snapped at him.

"I know men more than you do, there are no serious at his age."

"We're getting married," I informed him and I saw his expression change completely before he laughed nervously.

"Married? No way!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, married," I repeated, showing him my engagement ring. "At the end of the week, actually."

I tried to leave to welcome new customers but Lewis grabbed me by the arm and forced me to stay with him.

"You can't marry him," he said in a low, threatening voice, tightening his grasp around my wrist.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I arrived at the pub a bit before eight because I just could not wait to have Freya by my side again. As I approached, I saw Joseph smoking a cigarette next to the front door and I recalled the night before; he probably did too, given the way he looked at me before throwing the end of his cigarette to the floor and crushing it under his shoe. I moved towards him and tried to hide how uncomfortable I was when I stopped at his side.

"Joseph? Right?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck but forcing myself to look him in the eyes.

"Yeah," he simply answered, waiting for me to go on.

"Andrew Collins, Freya's boyfriend," I said as I offered him my hand.

"I know," he replied as he accepted to shake hands. Of course he knew, and he was probably wondering what Freya was doing with a dumb guy like me.

"Freya's inside," he informed me and I nodded to thank him.

"In fact, I wanted to talk to you first."

"Listen man, for last night, I get it, don't worry about that," he told me before I could even start.

"No, no, I have to apologise!" I insisted. "I was an arse, really. I was freshly back from duty and I hadn't seen Freya in months, and to see her with another guy, it just drove me mad. It was stupid."

"I get it. I would've probably reacted like that too. But man, you don't have to worry about anything, she's madly in love with you."

"Yeah, I figured that out afterwards."

"And I've a girl. She's a nurse, serving on the front lines. So, I know how it feels to be far from the one you love. You can believe me when I tell you I get it," he explained.

"We've to be a bit crazy to do that to ourselves," I forced a laugh. "To love someone when we can't even be with them."

"We don't choose," he observed. "Better to have love during those times than nothing. Oh, and before I forget, congrats for your engagement! Freya told me, that's brilliant!" he complimented me.

"Thanks, I couldn't be happier," I confessed.

"I can imagine," he smiled. "Come on, I've to get back to work so Freya can leave with you."

He opened the door and I stepped inside. I immediately looked for my girlfriend, scanning the room from one side to the other. When I finally caught sight of her, the scene I witnessed made my blood boil. Her former boyfriend was there, and she did not seem happy about it. His hand on her was enough to tell me I had to do something. I did not have to think about it, and I immediately crossed the room to get to them.

"Let her go!" I told him.

"Mind your own business," he sent me packing without even looking at me.

"Let her go," I repeated, forcing myself to stay calm in front of Freya, who did not dare to say anything.

"Fuck you, moron!" he insulted me. "I'm talking to my girlfriend."

He was so focused on Freya he had not even realised he knew me.

"I told you to let her go," I insisted, starting to lose my cool.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat his words with anger as he finally turned his eyes to me, and before he could even process the fact that I was standing in front of him, I had punched him in the face, causing him to fall from his stool. I approached him as he tried to get up and threw him back to the ground with a kick, as if he had unleashed a rage I could not control.

"You perfectly know who I am," I told him. "You wanted to meet again, then here I am Lewis! What are you waiting for?" I provoked him, but Freya had stepped in and pushed me back, trying to have me leave the scene. All the customers were looking at me now, and some had even gathered around the bar, but Freya's stare told me I had done enough. I saw Lewis stand up with difficulty and I turned my back to him, ready to give up and follow Freya, but it was before I heard the words he had dared to pronounce.

"You can keep that slut."

I did not need more. I turned around and threw my fist in his face with all my strength. I heard and felt the bones of his nose crack under my knuckles and immediately saw blood running down his face. When he brought his hand to his nose, then looked at me, I knew he would try to save face. I managed to dodge his first blow and to push him back, but his response got me by surprise and hit me directly in the face. There was no way I would let him disrespect her the way he did, and I was about to go at it again when an imposing man grabbed Lewis by the arm and pulled him aside.

"Get your man out of here!" he ordered Freya. "No fighting in my pub! You want to fight, you go outside!" he yelled.

I did not try to resist and let Freya pull me outside in the street, in the cold air of the night.

"What the hell, Andrew? Are you crazy?" she scolded me.

"He asked for it!" I defended myself.

"You promised me not to fight!" she reminded me.

"I promised not to fight with Joseph," I corrected her.

Much to my surprise, she started laughing at my silly remark and I laughed with her. The shooting pain in my jaw forced me to stop immediately and I winced, unable to hide the discomfort I was feeling.

"Really, do you think it was the right time to hurt yourself?" she asked me as she moved my hand to look at where Lewis had hit me. "Let's hope you won't have a bruise for the wedding."

"Well, at least, I'm not the one with a broken nose," I made fun of what had happened and winked at her.

"There's nothing to be proud of!" she pretended to be angry, but I knew she wasn't.

"I know you're glad I did it," I teased her.

"I'm not," she lied as she started walking away from me.

I ran after her, caught her in my embrace and gently grabbed her chin to force her to look at me.

"Say it, tell me you're glad I did it. You're a bad liar Miss Wright!" I laughed.

"Alright," she rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you did it! Happy?" she asked and allowed herself to smile.

"Happy," I replied as I leant over to kiss her.

In fact, I thought nobody could be happier than I was. Our relationship was so strong, I had never felt that confident in my life. Lewis could try anything, he would never get Freya back because he would never cherish her as much as I did.


	20. Yours forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I could write something cheesier than this chapter. It's peak fluff, but I love it. Sorry not sorry.

"What if she changes her mind?" I asked as I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

"Why would she change her mind?" my father returned the question.

"I don't know. She might think it's too early. We've been together for less than a year," I expressed my worry, checking my tie for the hundredth time.

"Wasn't she the one who said she couldn't wait to marry you?" Jane replied.

"I married your mother one month after I met her, that's what I call early!" my father added.

But I could not stop worrying about later, always doubting my merit to marry her.

"And what if she realises I'm not the one for her?" I turned to my sister.

"She dumped a rich guy for you!" Jane replied playfully.

"But I won't be with her most of the time. I'm leaving her again tomorrow..." I sighed.

Jane came closer and took my hands away from my tie, forcing me to look at her.

"She understands all of that. She loves you. I've never seen two people more in love than you are. Everyone is jealous of the way she looks at you."

She managed to make me smile.

"So, trust yourself a bit Andy, all right?" she pinched my cheek to shake me up.

"All right!" I replied, trying to free myself from her hand.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure she's as stressed as you are," she added. "I tell you, you're meant to be together!"  
  
  


*****  
  
  


"I can't believe I'm gonna be married today," I exclaimed, looking at Andrew's mother who was adjusting the veil on my head one last time. "Sometimes I feel like we're meant to be, and sometimes I can't help but think I don't deserve him."

"Oh sweetheart, don't say that..." she replied so sweetly, taking my face in her hands.

"Your son is the best thing that has ever happened to me. You brought a true angel into this world and into my life," I thanked her.

She kissed me on the cheek and wiped a tear from under her eyes.

"I couldn't wish for a better person for my boy," she complimented me.

"I think Andrew is the one who doesn't deserve you," Mary joked as she got up from her chair, her baby girl in her arms. "I'll go check on him now, it's almost time!" she informed us before leaving the room.

"I'll join you," Catherine said. "I'll leave you with your father," she smiled warmly at me and closed the door behind her.

I turned around to look at myself in the mirror and admire the spectacular dress Catherine had created. The way the fabric graciously fell to the floor in an elegant train, the simplicity of the piece, the way it perfectly marked my waist, the precious lace details on the long sleeves and that veil. That sumptuous veil that would reach my waist. Cathy and her daughters had sacrificed so much to allow me to feel special, and they had succeeded. I had never felt that beautiful in my life, and it was thanks to their incredible talent and generosity.

I took a deep breath and exhaled to force myself to relax. I tried to convince myself that nothing bad would happen, that today was my happy day, our happy day, and that we would etch it in our hearts forever.

"You look amazing darling."

I had not heard my father come in and his voice had managed to startle me. When I turned to him, his proud smile warmed my heart. When he directly came to take me in his arms, I couldn't help but have the feeling that he was saying goodbye. He admired me one more time as to be sure I was his daughter.

"You're not my little girl anymore, are you?" he asked but without expecting an answer.

"I'll always be your girl, daddy. You're not losing me," I reassured him.

"I know. I know. But you've your man now and your life is with him."

"There will always be a place for you in my life," I told him.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of my daughter. I'm so glad you found a man who cherishes you and treats you so well. That Andrew immediately convinced me he was good for you. I've no doubt that he'll continue to make you happy," he confessed.

"Thank you, dad," I said with tears in my eyes. "I wish mum was there too."

"I know darling. Me too."

"She would have loved him, right?"

"Oh, yes, trust me. She would probably be crying with happiness at the moment," he said lightly.

"I know why I'm so sensitive then," I laughed, as I had been fighting my tears for a while now.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he offered me his arm.

I nodded and smiled at him before covering my face with my veil, ready to accomplish the most important thing of my life. I followed him to the hall of the church, where we stopped before the closed doors. I could hear people chatting on the other side, making my heart race with anticipation and fear. I looked one last time at my father and I saw in his eyes that I was making the right choice, and so I was not afraid anymore.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I felt quite vulnerable standing alone in front of the altar. Everyone was already seated and I could feel all of their eyes fixed on me. I was so stressed, I kept rubbing my sweaty hands against my uniform and just could not stand still. I was looking around, dancing from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the buttons of my uniform, hoping the wait would soon be over. As I scanned the crowd of people that had gathered in the building, I met Jane's kind eyes as she told me to take a deep breath, which I did. Focusing on my breath helped a lot, just like it did when I was in my plane, about to fall upon the enemy at any time. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. I smiled at my sister to show her I was fine and suddenly, the first notes of the organ resonated in the church. I turned towards the aisle, my heart beating way too fast and butterflies messing around in my stomach, expecting to see Freya at any moment now. Inhale. Exhale. It was all I could do. But I automatically stopped breathing when the doors opened and she appeared at the other end of the aisle. She was breath-taking in her dress, erasing everything around her. She was the only thing I could see. A wide smile took over my face when she looked at me, and I could catch sight of her smiling as well behind her veil. I did not take my eyes off her as she slowly approached me, walking to her father's side, letting everybody enjoy the blessed vision of her, so gracious in her white gown. She finally took place by my side, and her beauty struck me even more. "You look ravishing, love," I complimented her, causing her to avoid my eyes with shyness. She focused her attention on her bouquet instead, but I felt her fingers graze my hand and I let her hold it as we both turned to face the clergyman.

I probably did not listen to most of what he said, my heartbeat being the only sound filling my ears. I just wanted him to ask me if I wanted to become Freya's husband so I could answer positively. When that crucial moment finally arrived, Freya and I turned to face each other, both eager to seal our love forever. She put her bouquet aside and I took her hands in mine, stroking their back with my thumbs.

"Freya, my love," I started. "Meeting you was a true blessing and there's not a day I don't feel lucky to have you in my life. I also thank my younger self for being passionate about planes and not ships, otherwise our paths would've never crossed," I said on a light note, causing the attendance to laugh. "I believe God put you on my way for a reason. You've made me a better person and I've never been more myself than since I've met you. You're the kindest, most caring and generous person I've ever known and these are just some of the reasons I love you so much. You're my purpose, you help me go through every day with no harm, like my lucky star. I know it hasn't always been easy for us, but I've never lost faith in our love and we're here today to prove to the world that we belong with each other. I believe I belong with you. You deserve to be loved more than anyone in this world and I promise to love you for the rest of my life and beyond. I promise that whatever happens in this war, I'll always be by your side, I'll always be with you, one way or another," I concluded as I witnessed Freya's eyes fill with tears.

She tightened her grasp around my hands and sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. It was her turn to speak.

"Andrew," she told me, her voice trembling with emotion. "Do you remember when you told me, on the day we officially met, that the fact I had been assigned to your squadron was destiny?" I nodded; I perfectly remembered that day. "I believe things happen for a reason. I believe meeting you was my destiny and that all the previous events led me to that specific moment, the moment I met you. The way we met is the perfect representation of that. We just bumped into each other in that corridor, just as love conquered us when we were least expecting it. And I ran away, like I always do, because I thought I was not entitled to that much happiness. But you can't deny the obvious for long. And luckily, I opened my eyes before it was too late. You've enlightened my life Andrew. With you by my side, I've found my other half and I finally feel complete. I would lie if I said that I'm not scared at the idea to let you go again, but," she was interrupted by a sob. "But your selflessness and your dedication are things that I admire about you, among many others. You always make me smile, take care of me and protect me, like you protect all of us. You're such a good man, and I couldn't wish for a better person to spend my life with. In a few months, you've made me discover more about love than what I've experienced in years. You've shown me what true love is and I didn't know it was possible to love someone that much. Because I love you more than words can explain, and you truly mean the world to me," she stopped, out of breath. I stared at the vault and blinked rapidly to chase the tears that had formed in my eyes. It was way more emotional than I had expected. Her declaration, in front of all of the people who cared about us, was the most beautiful proof of love she could give me. And now that we had made everybody feel overly sentimental, or uncomfortable, with our display of feelings, it was time to exchange our vows. The most meaningful part of it all was finally about to happen and I was the one to start. I held her hands and gazed into her eyes before repeating the words pronounced by the clergyman.

"In the name of God, I, Andrew William Arthur Collins, take you, Freya Eleanor Wright, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

I was unable to repress a smile when she too, made the same promise.

"In the name of God, I, Freya Eleanor Wright, take you, Andrew William Arthur Collins, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Right afterwards, my nephew, Charles came to give us the rings that we were ready to exchange as a symbol of our union. I took her left hand in mine and place the jewellery on her ring finger.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you."

And she did the same, softly placing the ring on my finger, and with that I was hers forever.

"Andrew and Freya, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife. Andrew, you may kiss the bride."

That was it, she was my wife and I was her husband. As simple as that. I gazed in her eyes and bit my lips in anticipation at kissing her. I reach for the bottom of her veil to lift it up and reveal her pretty face, but it was so long I somehow struggled to pass it over her head. First attempt was a fail, for I didn't manage to get it all over at once, causing the attendance to laugh at my clumsiness.

"It's really beautiful mum, thank you for doing that, but it's not practical at all!" I told my mother to make fun of the situation. I helped ease the atmosphere for both of us, for when I finally managed to uncover her face, Freya was still giggling at my stupid joke. We stared into each other's eyes and suddenly, everybody turned silent around us, waiting for us to make it official. It was all I wanted to do anyway, so I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips against hers in a sweet kiss. I shivered at the contact of her delicate fingers grazing my cheek, and when our families and friends started clapping and cheering, I could feel her smile against my lips and it made me smile too. We had made it.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


For the first time in hours, I was not clung to his arm. He was in fact several meters away from me and I felt kind of lost. After church, we had moved to Billy's pub to celebrate with our loved ones. We had eaten, we had drunk, we had sung, we had laughed a lot. And I had spent my whole day in his arms, I had danced with him, cheek to cheek, heart to heart, observed the ring at his finger that said he was mine and listened to all the guests telling us how happy they were for us; I had enjoyed our day to the most. Even now, I could not help but look at him across the room as he was talking to Joseph and some of his friends, the ones that had not gone to war or that were on leave. I was lost in the contemplation of his sweet face, completely obsessed with his irresistible dimples, and I knew that he knew I was observing him, for he took a sip of his drink and looked at me from the corner of his eye, his smile saying a lot about how happy he was. Even apart, we were connected, and I was fighting the urge to join him when a familiar voice called me.

"Freya! Finally, I can approach you," Eden exclaimed as she took me in her arms.

"Look at you!" she complimented me. "You look like a true queen."

I blushed at her nice words and went back to hug her one more time.

"I've missed you," I let her know. "I'm so glad you could come."

"I couldn't miss that! The most important day of your life!"

"Yes, it's kinda crazy, isn't it?" I chuckled. "Who would have thought?"

"Well, not to sound pretentious, but I did, we all did. The two of you not ending up together would have probably announced the end of the world..." she laughed.

"I was the only one to ignore it, wasn't I?" I laughed with her.

"Oh yes you were! And speaking of things you ignore..." she added and placed her left hand in front of me to show me her engagement ring. I could not believe my eyes and grabbed her hand to take a closer look.

"What? But how? I... I thought you..." I started but never finished my sentence, not knowing if it was wise to mention James at that moment.

"I know what you think," she told me. "Believe me, I've thought about him a lot and he really holds a special place in my heart, but it was not real love, not what you guys have... And then I met someone else and I realised I had to live my life."

"I understand. I'm not judging you Eden."

"Thank you," she sounded relieved.

"When is the wedding then? And where's your man?"

"He couldn't come with me but you'll meet him at the wedding! I want you to come. It's taking place next summer," she informed me.

"Well, I've plenty of time to think about what I'm going to wear," I joked.

"Yours was a bit short noticed but I managed to find something suitable, don't you think?"

"Yes, you look amazing!" I said as she spun around to show me her dress. "I guess he's not a soldier if you can make plans in the future like that."

"No, he's not. Well, he's in the RAF, but he's in commands. He's really busy, and I don't see him much, but at least I don't have to worry about him being killed," she laughed. Her face became instantly serious when she realised her blunder. "Oh God, I'm sorry Freya, that was a very stupid thing to joke about."

"It's fine," I lied. The present day had been so perfect I had forgotten Andrew had to leave the next day, and Eden's words had struck me right in the heart.

"Are you sure?" she worried.

"Yes," I forced a smile. "Tell me more about your man," I invited her to change subject and thankfully she did.

"His name is John," she started, but I was not really listening. I couldn't. As much as I loved Eden, I wanted her to stop talking and to let me be with my husband. I wanted to be alone with him. My wish was kind of granted when Andrew showed up at my side and placed his arm around my waist to bring me close to him.

"Hi Eden! It's so nice to see you," he greeted her with a beaming smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine thank you, and you?"

"Well, as you can see, I'm married and really happy," he answered and stared at me with awe. I could not look away, the blue of his eyes always mesmerised me.

"Well, I should leave you two together," Eden reminded us of her presence.

"Sorry, I tend to be over-possessive during my last days of leave," he joked.

"No worries. You guys enjoy your first night as husband and wife," she winked at us.

"We will," Andrew replied as he gave her a hug.

It was then my turn and I promised her I would be there for her wedding. She was my best friend after all.

She had hardly left that Andrew had already gone back to his place by my side, his hand softly squeezing my hip. He turned his head towards me and brought his mouth to my ear.

"Should we make a move?" he whispered before looking at me with ardency. "I've seen enough people for today I think. I just want to be with you."

"Now?" I couldn't contain my surprise, even if he had just expressed what I had wanted him to tell me.

"Yes, I can't listen for one more minute to my auntie telling me about her wedding forty years ago..." he feigned to be exhausted.

"We should say goodbye then," I replied.

"Oh no, don't bother. They'll understand if they don't see us anymore," he convinced me.

"Then, let's go!" I told him as I pulled him towards the exit.

We made our way through the room without anybody paying attention to us, except for Joseph who gave us a knowing smile. In no time, we were out in the dark cold early night of October. It was exciting to just be carefree for a moment and to finally be alone together. We had seized our happiness while we could, before it was too late, and even if our love was already at its strongest before, our union seemed to mark a new chapter for us, a new path to follow. As we started walking down the cobbled street, Andrew took off his jacket and placed it on my shoulders. It was the kind of sweet little attention he was always giving me and that I cherished.

"What a day," he thought out loud while taking a cigarette out of his trousers' pocket. He lighted it and exhaled a cloud of smoke in the darkness of the sky. I raised my eyes to observe him and I could not help but think that my man was terribly handsome. Everything about him was perfect to my eyes, even his new smoking habit was something that turned me on while I hated the smell of it.

"I love you," I let him know, not bothering that my declaration was coming out of nowhere. It did not seem to bother him either for he smiled at me and raised his arm to invite me to snuggle against him. He did not have to ask me twice; all I cared about was to be as close as possible to him, to enjoy every second of the time we had left together. Nobody could understand what he meant to me.

"I love you more," he replied a bit later.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


We pushed the door of our flat later, for our first night in our very own home. I headed to the living room, followed by Andrew, and dropped his jacket on the closest armchair. I stopped when I discovered a gift on the coffee table. I picked what seemed to be a bottle of champagne and turned to Andrew with a questioning look on my face. He did not seem to be responsible for it, for he joined me next to the table to pick the card that I had missed and read its content out loud.

"The bottle I had kept for the big day. To the beginning of a new chapter of your life and to your love, Arthur Collins."

"That's so sweet," I exclaimed.

"Papa can prove to be demonstrative sometimes," he did not want to show he was moved by his kindness.

"Have you ever drunk Champagne?" he asked me as he took the bottle from my hands.

"No, not that I remember," I informed him.

"Well, we needed a first time tonight. That will be it," he teased me.

Of course he had to make a joke about that. He always knew how to make me laugh, and I was so grateful to see that the war had not destroyed this part of him. I observed him pour us two glasses, and I accepted the one he handed me while he raised his to make a toast.

"To my beautiful wife," he said before taking a sip.

I mimicked him, feeling his eyes on me as he wanted to catch my reaction at my first try at the beverage.

"It's really good, actually!" I let him know.

"It's not bad. But it's nothing like a good scotch," he commented.

"It's more refined than scotch," I chaffed him.

"Are you serious? Don't make me regret my vows!"

"Yes, it's very nice, very subtle. It doesn't hurt your throat when you drink it!" I deliberately added.

"I can't listen to that nonsense any longer," he pretended to be shocked and moved to the gramophone to put on some music. A nice tune filled the living room, and I observed him flop down into the armchair next to the fireplace. He looked a bit tired but his smile was all about happiness. His eyes were fixed on me, full of love and gratefulness.

I swallowed down my flute of champagne before approaching Andrew. I sat on his lap and took his glass away. I could tell he was surprised by my move and it was all the more exciting. I took his face in my hands and brought his lips to mine. I knew exactly how to drive him crazy; my tongue against his lips, his skin between my teeth and my body pressed against his. His hands moving up my thighs to finally tighten around my waist proved me I was right. His lips tasted like champagne and tobacco, a completely unknown blend to my senses, and yet so appealing. I pulled away, causing Andrew to grumble with frustration but I smiled innocently at him, knowing he would not be able to resist me.

"What's Mrs Collins trying to do?" he asked as he reclined in the armchair.

"I don't know, who's that Mrs Collins?" I replied with fake innocence.

"I guess it's you," he played along.

"Well, I like the sound of it," I admitted.

"You do?"

"Yes, say it again," I told him.

"Freya, Eleanor, Collins," he insisted on his last name that was also mine now.

"Again," I begged him.

But before he could even utter my first name, I had taken possession of his lips again. His strong hands ran along my back up to my neck and he slid his fingers into my hair, taking control of the situation. Married life was way better than I had expected; it had opened my mind, made me wild, audacious, and it was to his greatest pleasure. I started unbuttoning his shirt and the way he moaned against my lips seemed to indicate that he was more than okay with my initiative. I was about to remove it when Andrew grabbed me under the thighs and stood up.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable," he suggested before carrying me to our bedroom.

"Wait," I told him when he entered the room, "put me down."

He obeyed and I turned my back to him.

"Help me take my dress off," I asked him.

He gladly accepted and started undoing all the small buttons that were placed along my spine. I loved that he took his time to do it carefully, almost religiously. When he was finally done with it, I turned around and pushed him on the bed to make him sit. The way he was looking at me, casually leaning back on his arms, his mouth slightly open in expectation, made me feel so desired and confident. As I had all his attention, I let my dress fall to the floor, now standing only in my underwear, unveiling my charms.

"Fuck," he gasped, visibly enjoying the vision he had in front of him.

I brought my hands to my hair to remove the pins and let it fall in waves upon my shoulders. And as I thought I had made him wait long enough, I moved closer to him to stand between his legs. Andrew sat up straight and pulled me above him to bring his agony to an end. I loved the sensation of his hands on my bare skin and of his kisses in my neck. We were finally starting our life as a married couple, just the two of us, in complete intimacy, and it was exhilarating.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I could not sleep, I had too many things in my mind. I had my beautiful wife in my arms, I had my very own place to share with her, everything I had ever dreamt of, and still, I felt like I had done something wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to marry me. Maybe by doing something I thought would be a proof of love, I had been selfish. I should have waited till the end of the war maybe. Until I was sure I could spend the rest of my life with her. But my feelings for her were so strong I had wanted to marry her quickly and be happy. Happy that she had said yes, that she had expressed the same desire. But if something happened to me, I would not be the one to deal with the consequences. She would be. And that was the part that made me selfish, because I knew her, and I knew that if I had to lose my life in the war, she would never recover, she would never want to move on, she would never try to find someone else. She would put her life on hold for me. I knew that, I knew her, but despite all of it, I had asked her to marry me. I had asked her to be mine and only mine, knowing very well I would have to leave in a few days, without being sure that I would ever see her again. I had been scared to lose her and not to be able to show her how much I loved her. I had feared that I would never be able to experience married life and such fulfilment in my life because I had to fight in a war. I had followed my heart when my mind was telling me it was wrong, but to see her so merry, so excited about the possibility to have a life together had made me forget about my guilt; because if she had said yes while knowing what the implications of having a husband in the RAF were, then it meant she really wanted to commit, and what else could I have wished for? So, I forced myself to think that I had made the right choice by asking her to marry me. I needed to think positively, and for now, I was alive. I couldn't deny the fact that I had seen death in the eyes, but I had survived. And maybe, to know that she was waiting for me in London would give me enough strength to make it through war. War could be over in a few months anyway, we could not guess what the future would bring. Anything could happen. I just had to stay alive, something at which I had not been bad so far. Freya probably believed it too, otherwise she wouldn't have married me. She knew I would survive for her. I had promised her anyway.


	21. Hold onto each other

Every day was the same since I had left for Merston again. Freya and I had been married for several months now and yet, we only had spent twenty-four hours together as husband and wife before we had to say goodbye again. Maybe it was just me, but the separation was less heart-breaking than the first time for we had made a promise to each other. We were confident we would live our life together, but there I was, back to my planes as my mother would say, back to my duty. Days were very busy and very similar. I had my diary to keep track of time, otherwise I would not know which day it was. November had gone, then December and Christmas away from my family, New Year with the hope that 1941 would bring the war to an end, my 26th birthday that I celebrated with my teammates to forget I was not with my wife, and then, Easter, alone again. Summer had started, a harsh reminder that I had not been home for almost a year. A year of seeing the same faces every day and not the one I missed the most; a year of kissing her photograph as a ritual before I had to take off and before going to sleep; a year of exchanging letters that just reminded us how lonely we felt; a year of erasing the names of the fallen ones from the black board of the common room and praying that mine would not be the next one to disappear...

My teammates and I were so weary of this war, yet we knew we were needed. We were not human beings anymore, we were machines. As soon as the ringtone was heard, we would switch off our feelings and run to our planes, take off, do our thing, land and go back to our quarters to wait for the next call. And if we came back fewer than we had left, we would head to the pub at the end of the day and drink pint after pint to forget it could have been us.

All of that, I would not tell Freya in my letters. I would not tell anyone. I would pretend that I was fine, confident and courageous and not that I was scared every time I had to leave on a mission. I would not tell her that I was not able to sleep properly anymore and that I would spend most of my nights staring at the ceiling, haunted by images of the fights I had done. I would not tell her when another pilot had died so she would worry less about me instead of fearing for my life. I would not tell her being away from her was driving me mad. And I knew she was doing the same. I knew she was pretending to be fine while my mother told me she was struggling to enjoy life as she was supposed to.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


There was not a single second during the day when I was not thinking about him. Even now, when I was supposed to enjoy my afternoon in the countryside with Joseph and our mutual friends, the day was spoiled by the thought that he was the only person missing. I was observing Henry and his girlfriend messing around in the river and I felt terribly jealous. I had the impression that all I could feel now was jealousy. Lovers holding hands in the street, a couple kissing while waiting for the underground, a pregnant woman helped out of a car by her husband; I envied them, all of them. I despised them for being able to be happy and together in a time of war. I despised them for reminding me that I was not allowed such happiness. So, accepting to leave London for an afternoon in the countryside had been a terrible idea for I had to witness the expression of Henry's affection for his girl when all I wanted was to yell at him to stop. I wished I could be happy for them. I felt terrible for being so bitter, but I could not help it.

"Stop torturing yourself," Joseph told me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I'm not—" I tried to deny.

"You're looking at them as if you wanted to kill them," he laughed.

I sighed, he was right.

"I know how you feel, but you've to let go. There's nothing we can do about it. We just have to be patient," he tried to comfort me.

"I know... But it's the first time he's been away for so long. I feel like he'll never come back..." I confessed.

"He will. Just trust him," he said as he pulled me in his arms.

"I know what you need," he added with a mischievous smile, and before I could realise he had something in mind, he had lifted me off the ground and was running towards the river. I tried my best to free myself from his clasp, but he was too strong and in no time, we were falling into the fresh water. I quickly surfaced, completely soaked and very mad at Joseph. I wiped the hair from my face and frowned at him but he was giggling like a child.

"I hate you," I shouted as I splashed water in his face.

"Now you've a good reason to hate someone," he laughed and splashed me back.

I jumped on him and tried to push him under water, but he resisted and instead, I was the one who had to hold her breath. I laughed at my miserable attempt and attacked him again. We fought like kids until we were both breathless, until I realised I had managed to let go. Guilt crept over me for I felt I was betraying Andrew by not thinking about him. I knew it was stupid, and that not thinking about him did not mean I was forgetting him, but missing someone was a really hard feeling to deal with. I would realise I had difficulty remembering his voice, his smell, his touch, and I would think it was my fault, when it wasn't. But I blamed myself nonetheless.

Joseph had noticed my sudden change of mood but before he could ask me what was wrong, I had stepped out of the water and wrapped myself in my towel.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he joined me.

"Yes, I was just a bit cold," I lied as I forced a smile.

"It's starting to be late, maybe we should make a move if we want to catch the train," he suggested.

I nodded in agreement, so Joseph called for the rest of the group to gather. We all dressed up and collected our things before leaving for the train station. We were entering the village when a familiar noise caught my attention. We all raised our eyes to the sky to see four spitfires rush above our heads in a roaring sound. There was something spectacular and graceful about the way they were flying in close formation. Seeing them here was a reminder that we could go on with our lives thanks to them. While the rest of the group did not pay much attention, I instinctively stopped, following them with my eyes until they disappeared behind the tops of the trees. What if it was him just there? What if it was Andrew? Chances were very slim, but anything that could link me to him was worth taking.

"Freya, come on," Joseph called me. "We're gonna miss the train!"

And so, I erased the spitfires from my thoughts and hurried to catch up with my friend.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I had arrived back home early in the evening. As soon as I had walked through the front door, I had felt his absence to be unbearable. It was just too much after that day. I had dropped my bag on the floor and headed to our bedroom to grab a piece of paper and write to Andrew. I wanted to be honest and tell him all the feelings that were weighing on my heart, tell him how much I missed him and how it was hard to go on with my life when he was not there. I shared my torments with him, hoping it would make me feel better, but it did not. Looking at that bed that we had only shared for one night made me want to cry, for every night I slipped under the blankets, his warm body was not there to comfort me, his arms were not there to embrace me, nor his voice to lull me. I thought of Eden and how lucky she was to have married a man that she could see almost every day and that she was sure would come back home to her. I had never thought it would be that painful to love someone. Two weeks apart was fine, four months was difficult but manageable, but a year, it just became pain in the end. You tended to forget what was good about your relationship, blinded by the torture of being separated. It was not something I could endure that night. I could not stay alone in our flat, and so I had left for some place where I knew I would find the comfort I needed. Thirty minutes later, I was knocking at my father's door, hoping he was not already asleep. When he opened the door, I could tell he was surprised to see me there.

"Freya, darling, what's wrong?" he asked as he let me inside.

I turned around to face him and could not prevent tears from running down my cheeks when I answered him.

"I can't do that anymore," I said in a sob.

"Do what darling?" he tried to understand.

"I can't bear to live without him," I confessed.

"Oh Freya," he sighed as he hugged me.

To be in his arms and to feel protected again, as I had always felt as a little girl, helped me release all the sadness that had filled my heart. I did not try to be strong or proud, I simply let all my tears go away, wrapped in his arms, at home.

"I miss him so much," I finally managed to say as I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand.

"I know, I know you do," he said as he stroked my hair. "Come," he invited me to follow him to the living room. "I'll make us some tea and then you can tell me everything," he let me know as he made me sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen.

When he came back with the tray, he sat next to me and handed me my cup of tea, which I gladly accepted, hoping the hot beverage would bring some warmth to my heart.

"I know it's hard darling. I know you feel like you'll never be able to be happy together. I went through all of that. But when days seem too dark, when it seems too hard, too painful, you need to remind yourself why you married Andrew. You need to remind yourself why you fell in love with him and you'll see why it's worth going through all the pain," he told me.

I nodded and thanks to his words, I could finally see some light through the dark clouds casting a shadow over my life.

"Tell me what you love about him and I'll tell you what I loved about your mother," he encouraged me.

"I love his patience and his understanding," I started. "I love the way he always tries to see the positive side of things, and always manage to make me laugh with his jokes. He's so strong, he never let anything bring him down. Our relationship is unique, because he respects me more than anyone, he makes me feel so special and important. And he has the most beautiful eyes," I concluded, smiling as I imagined his reflection in my cup of tea.

"That's what you need to remember, that's the most important," my father said as he stroked my arm.

"Your mother, my dear Eleanor, she was so much better than me. She made me who I am today. She was sweet and perfect. She always pushed me to do my best and believe in myself. She was full of hope and confident when I was full of doubts. She only saw the best, always. You need to be that person for Andrew. When he faces danger, when he faces death, he needs to know that you believe in him and trust him. You need to make him feel strong and worthy. If you are discouraged, he'll be too. But he needs your love and he needs your strength to go through war. You need each other. And if you have each other, everything will be okay."  
  
  


*****  
  
  


"You alright there Collins?" my friend Boyle asked me as I was reading Freya's letter that had just arrived this day. I probably looked mad if he felt the need to ask such question.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I brushed it off as I did not look away from the letter.

He was right, I was mad in fact. After such a bad day, this letter was not making things better. It only made it worse. I folded the pages back and looked at my right hand, still covered with chalk after I had to erase the name of one of the new recruits from the black board. I hated being the one in charge of that. I had erased his name as if his life meant nothing. It felt like it meant nothing to our leaders who were safe in their mansions while we were fighting a stupid war and giving our lives to serve our country, leaving our families and loved ones behind to protect our people and kill other people. And I was there, trying to survive day after day, fulfilling my duty, trying not to sink, while my wife was telling me how sad she felt, alone in London. After a tough day like this one, I did not need to read something like that. I did not want to know how sad she was, how lonely she felt and how hard it was for her to keep faith. She should have known it would have made me feel guilty. I was responsible for her unhappiness and her tears. I had asked her to marry me and I had been wrong, because I was forcing her to wait for me for months, in fear and anxiety. It was not what I wanted. I wanted her to be happy, not to feel trapped in a relationship that was bringing her down. I loved her but I couldn't do that to her. I just could not bear the idea that she was suffering because of me. What could I answer to that? Nothing I could say would make her feel better. Three pages of declarations of love and promises I would probably not be able to keep would not make her happier. I was failing as a husband and as a squadron leader, but I could only try to be better at one at a time, not both. I wrote to her nonetheless, a short message, because I wanted her to be happy despite everything, despite how hard it was, and once the letter was ready to be sent, I got up from the couch and went to grab my uniform jacket.

"Should we go out for a drink?" I asked my teammates. "I think we all need one after today."

They all agreed and so we headed to the pub, ready to leave that awful day behind us.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I was staring at my glass of whisky, my third of the night, my sixth if I counted the pints of beer I had also had before. My friends were dancing and cheering at the bar, singing and playing the piano, enjoying the company of girls, but I was sat at a table in a corner of the room, not feeling in the mood to join them. I would have usually been the one to lead the rest of the team, but not this time. I just wanted to be alone. I grabbed my glass and observed the amber liquid inside, my best friend for the night. I was suddenly brought back to reality when Boyle approached me with a girl at his side.

"That's Collins," he told her as the brunette girl looked at me. "As you can see, the chap is not at his best, I thought you could cheer him up," he concluded as he pulled the chair beside me so she could sit.

"I don't need company," I tried to argue, but she had already taken her place by my side and Boyle had already left.

I laughed with discomfort and rubbed my hands on my face, internally hating my friend for forcing that on me.

"I'm Betty," she introduced herself, fluttering her eyelashes when trying to meet my eyes.

"Collins," I coldly replied and swallowed down my whisky.

"I always see you around here, but I've never managed to talk to you. You're so difficult to reach, unlike the other men, that's probably why all the girls around here are talking about you," she said.

"If you say so," I did not even try to make conversation.

"You're so mysterious, always so calm, I think that's what I like about you," she said in a honeyed voice as she moved her chair closer to me.

"I'm not mysterious, I'm married," I stopped her before she could go on.

"Oh, I didn't know that," she seemed surprised. "She's lucky."

"I don't think she would agree with you."

"Well, I would feel lucky to be your wife. Is it why you're sad, though?" she asked.

"Partly, yes," I admitted.

"What's the other reason?" she insisted.

"I just had a bad day, that's all," I answered.

"Oh, I see, it's because you lost a pilot today, right? It must be hard..." she observed as she pressed her hand on mine. Surprisingly, her touch felt more appeasing than I expected. I did not know it if was because it reminded me of Freya or because it was something I missed and needed at the moment, but I did not remove my hand from her. I just remained silent.

"How did it happen?" she tried to know.

"I really don't want to talk about that," I told her, finally looking at her. She did not avoid my eyes and warmly smiled at me instead. She was so different from Freya. She was not shy at all but so confident, too confident. Her eyes looking straight into mine only showed determination and I felt intimidated.

"You've the bluest eyes I have ever seen," she complimented me.

And it could have stayed there if she had not placed her hand on my thigh and moved it to the inside of my leg. I quickly stood up to avoid her touch and tried to hide my disgust.

"I... I need to smoke," I stammered as I left her disappointed and alone at the table.

I lit my cigarette as soon as I stepped outside and leant my back against the wall of the pub. I let out a deep sigh, so angry with myself for having let that Betty think she had a chance. Who was I to do that to Freya? What was happening to me? I desperately drew on my cigarette as I tried to fight the urge to punch something with frustration. I just wanted to feel nothing anymore.

I was departing when the door of the pub opened and two of my teammates appeared with their conquests of the night, and Betty.

"Collins! Wait!" they called me, forcing me to stop and turn around.

"I'm leaving," I informed them.

"Us too! Let's walk together," Boyle suggested. I did not want to, but I was trapped, so I reluctantly let them join me, Betty not missing the opportunity to come at my side.

I said nothing and only looked at my feet, praying that this walk would be over sooner than later. My teammates were heavily drunk and noisy and touchy with their girls, and it made it even more awkward to have Betty by my side because I knew what her intentions were.

"That's where we must part," Boyle informed me as his group stopped in front of an inn.

"Have fun you two," he winked at us before they all disappeared inside the building.

"Are they fucking serious?" I laughed nervously as I ran a hand through my hair. That night was a bad joke. I resumed walking when Betty interrupted me.

"My street is on the left," she said.

"Well, then, good night," I told her, willing to get away from her as soon as possible.

"Are you not going to walk me home?" she asked, incredulous.

"You're a grown-up," I replied.

"It's dark. A lady shouldn't walk alone at night," she insisted.

"It's Merston. Nothing ever happens in Merston," I sighed.

"And what if something happens? You would be blamed for that," she kind of threatened me.

"Alright, let's go, but hurry up please," I gave in as I turned in the street she had indicated.

"I'm sorry for what I did earlier. I did not want to make you uncomfortable. It's just, I really like you and I thought maybe you needed some comfort. The kind of comfort all the soldiers ask around here. I was wrong, I'm sorry," she apologised.

"I told you I'm married. You shouldn't have tried that," I explained.

"I know, but most of the pilots around here are married and it doesn't prevent them from seeking comfort somewhere else," she observed.

"Well, I'm not like most of the pilots," I used her own words. "I love my wife."

"You're a good man Collins," she said as she stopped in front of a house. "That's where I live," she let me know.

"Then I'll leave you here," I told her as I turned back, but she grabbed my arm to prevent me from leaving too fast.

"Let me thank you," she begged me.

Before I could refuse anything, she had wrapped her arms around my neck to hug me.

"Take care of yourself," she said and kissed me on the cheek.

I thought she would finally let me go but instead she took my face in her hands and kissed me by surprise. I pushed her back, repelled by the sensation of her lips on mine, and the satisfied smile I discovered on her face made me sick.

"What's wrong with you?" I snapped at her with disgust and left as quickly as possible.

"She's not there, she'll never know," she tried to hold me back. She was right, she wasn't there, but I would never do that to her.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


It was a beautiful morning to be alive, I thought as I put the washing out on the small balcony. The sunny weather reflected my mood, for my talk with my father a few days ago had helped me a lot to overcome my sadness. I was looking at life very differently thanks to his wise words. I just had to be patient and confident, and everything would be fine. Sometimes, letting go was the best thing you could do.

As I stepped back inside my bedroom with the empty washing basket in my arms, I heard noise coming from the living room.

"Freya?" I heard a voice call me. "Love, are you there?"

I let the basket fall to the floor and ran through the corridor to reach the front of the flat and discover Andrew in the hall, his duffle bag at his side. The way his eyes sparkled when he saw me made my heart flutter. I jumped into his arms and squealed with joy at seeing him there. I had no idea he was coming back and it was the best surprise he could have ever given me. He held me firmly as I wrapped my legs around his waist and avidly pressed my lips against his. How good it felt to taste him again, to touch him again, to be his again. He laughed with happiness at my energetic display of affection and tightened his embrace around me.

"Hello my love," he said as I gazed in his stunning eyes I had missed so much.

"Hi," I answered, a big smile on my face.

"You're so beautiful," he praised me, causing me to blush with pleasure before kissing him again.

"I couldn't have dreamt of a better welcome," he joked as he put me down. "It's so good to be back."

I could not stop looking at him and he could not either. We were just two kids stupidly in love.

"You look tired," I observed, a bit worried about the huge dark rings under his eyes.

"That's why I'm here," he informed me. "My superiors ordered me to have some rest."

He took his jacket off and hung it in the hall before taking me with him to the kitchen.

"I'm so hungry," he exclaimed as he opened the cupboards to look for something to eat, but there was not much for him.

"How many days did they give you?" I asked.

"Two. Today, tomorrow, and I have to go back the day after tomorrow," he explained. After some hesitation, he finally decided to go for an apple and took a bite before looking at me with blissful eyes. Two days were not much, but I was so happy to have him back.

*****

I had missed his face so much. He hadn't changed a bit apart from his weary features, he had not aged. Having him back in my life had made me forget everything about the pain I had felt during the previous months. Nothing else mattered but him and his happiness. That was the power of love. Accepting to suffer for months to be able to enjoy two blissful days before suffering again. But on that day, in that park, settled against that tree, my husband having a nap his head rested on my lap, I was content. All I wanted was for him to rest as much as possible before going back to his base for I was worried about his health and his capacity to stay safe.

I had closed my book and was observing Jane and his children playing in the grass a bit further when Andrew, shaken with tremors, suddenly woke up. He was gasping for air and looking at me with fear in his eyes, completely lost, wondering where he could be. I reached for his cheek and stroke it as I tried to reassure him:

"Andrew, hey, I'm here. I'm right here."

My voice somehow managed to appease him and his breathing settled.

"Another nightmare?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I carefully questioned him.

"It's just..." he paused. "Just the usual thing. I'm shot down and I can't get out of my plane and I crash. I'm tired. I'm constantly tired. I just want to sleep."

He lay down again but this time, he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face against my stomach as if seeking some protection.

"Talk to me, please. I need to hear your voice. Just let me hear your voice," he begged me.

"Yes, I'm here," I answered. "I won't leave you, I promise," I said as I stroke his hair to soothe him.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

And as I saw him close his eyes again, I improvised a song, a sort of lullaby, something to bring him peace. I did not care if it sounded stupid, it did not to me, not at this moment.

" _Stay with me, stay in my arms,_

_Here it's safe, here you're free,_

_Here's where I love you, where I'll always be."_

His chest rising and falling steadily encouraged me to go on _._

_"Close your eyes and rest your mind,_

_Planes are birds and nobody dies._

_Please stay with me, stay in my arms,_

_Forget the world, forget the bad._

_Here it's safe, you're with me,_

_It's only love, just you and me._

_Forget the war, forget the fights,_

_It's just the sun and only light._

_Lay in the grass, stay in my arms,_

_I'm next to you, there's no harm._

_Here it's safe, here you're free,_

_Here it's safe, you're with me._ "

By the time I had reached the end of my song, he had fallen asleep again. His breathing was shallow, calm, he was finally at peace. I took my book and went back to my reading, my free hand still playing with his blond locks so he knew I was still there. He probably slept during a whole hour like that, not even disturbed by a nightmare. It was a relief for the both of us. When his blue eyes met mine when he woke up, they were free from any concern.

"You'll have to sing to me every time," he told me.

"I'll do my best," I sincerely replied.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


After our afternoon outside, we had come back to our flat, with Jane and her children. Charles had grown up so much, he was much taller and heavier than when I had left and I now struggled to lift him in my arms to play.

"Did you miss your awesome uncle Andy?" I asked him as I ruffled his hair to bother him.

"A bit," he answered.

I was about to reply to him when someone knocked on the main door.

"I'm going," Freya told me as she left the kitchen where we had all settled.

"How come, just a bit?" I looked at Charles and feigned to be hurt.

"Yes, mama told me I should not talk about missing you in front of Freya because it would make her sad," he said with genuine innocence. "Right Mum?" he asked my sister.

I was not expecting such answer, and it left me speechless.

"Yes Charles, that's right," Jane told her son as she pressed him against her before turning to me. "Sorry," she apologised.

"It's fine," I reassured her. "I understand."

I walked to wait for Freya at the door of the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Is she doing okay?" I asked my sister. "I mean... When I'm not here, is she okay?"

She probably saw the worry in my eyes for she hurried to reply:

"Yes! Yes, she is. She's strong most of the time. And we're here for her."

"Thank you for taking care of her," I sincerely expressed before turning to Freya who was coming back.

"Who was it?" I asked and smiled warmly at her, but the way she angrily looked at me gave me chills. I understood I was in trouble, but for what, I had no idea.

As she reached me, she strongly pressed a piece of paper against my chest and said:

"' _I don't force you to stay with me_ '. Really?"

And suddenly it came back to me. The letter I had sent her shortly before going home had arrived. I had completely forgotten about it.

"Wait, Freya," I tried to hold her back, but she had already left the room.

I turned to Jane with despair and discovered that everyone was silently looking at me.

"I..." I tried to explain. "I need to..." I pointed out to where Freya had left.

Jane nodded before lifting Rose in her arms.

"Yes, don't worry, go," she told me. "Charles, come, we're leaving."

I gave her a smile to thank her and quickly left to look for my wife. She was not in the living room, nor in the bathroom or in the spare room. It was when I entered our bedroom that I finally found her, pacing up and down before the bed, biting her nails. She immediately moved towards me when she saw me, but stopped just far enough so I could not reach for her hand to try to calm her. She was so agitated, I did not know what to do to make amends.

"Do you mean it?" she finally asked, her voice harsh with anger.

"Love, please, let me—" I tried to ask her to listen to me without success.

"Do you mean what you wrote in that letter?" she raised her voice.

"No," I admitted. "It's stupid."

"Then why did you write it?"

"I can't bear to make you sad," I explained.

"Did you think telling me this would make me feel better?" she rightly showed the absurdity of my action.

"You're unhappy because of me. I thought that if you realised you could be happier without me, you would leave me and find happiness with someone else," I told her as I looked at the letter in my hands.

"I married you knowing it would be hard. But it was my choice!"

"But do you know how it hurts to read that you're unhappy alone here in London?" I asked her. "Do you know how I felt when you told me how sad you are? If... If I had not seduced you, if I had not asked you to marry me, you would still be with Lewis and you'll be happier, because you would have your husband with you. But I'm the worst husband ever. I'm never here for you!"

"No, don't say that," she stopped me as she approached me. "I was unhappy with Lewis, but with you I'm happy!"

She took my face in her soft hands and went on: "I'm sorry I complained in my letter. I'm really sorry I made it harder for you, it was selfish. But I'll never leave you. I love you."

"But what good is there for you in loving someone you never see?"

"We knew how it would be, and we both made the decision to follow our heart. I don't regret anything. I married a hero."

"I'm not a hero, I don't want to be one. I just want to be a husband and live a simple life by your side..."

"We will. I promise. It will soon end, and you'll come back to me, and I'll be waiting for you."

I avoided her eyes, incapable of feeling relieved.

"What's wrong?" she asked with concern.

I left her arms to go sit on the bed and I finally dared look at her.

"I'm scared," I confessed.

"Andrew..." she softly pronounced my name, fearing what my next words would be.

"I feel like something bad is going to happen," I expressed my feelings, those I had kept to myself for too long. "All of my mates have died or something bad happened to them. I'll be next, I can feel it."

"No, no, no! Don't say that," she refused to let me speak. "Something already happened to you, remember?"

"But it was nothing! I got lucky!" I corrected her.

"It wasn't _nothing_! You could have died!" she took offence.

"No, I was fine. It was nothing," I insisted.

"Nothing bad will happen to you. Don't think like that. You'll be okay," she told me as she sat next to me and took my hand in her.

I leant forward and pressed my head to her heart to seek comfort.

"It can't go on like that forever, I'll run out of luck. Something will happen," I thought out loud.

"No," she told me off. "You've got my sparrow, nothing bad can happen to you," she tried to reassure me as she took me in her arms. If only it was that easy.


	22. In the bleak midwinter

The biting winter cold was very harsh on that morning, so much that I had to bury my face in my tartan scarf to protect my skin from the icy gust of wind blowing on the platform of the station. It had been snowing lightly for several hours now, and even if the snow was not sticking to the ground, it gave a little something magical to London. To see my city put on her white coat always warmed my heart and in that moment, it almost made me forget that my feet were slowly getting frozen from not moving. I did not really have the clothes to fight the cold, but it would not stop me from waiting for Andrew. I had not seen him for more than a year so, when he had told me he would be home for Christmas, I had counted down the days, impatiently waiting for him to come back. Four hundred and ninety-five. That was the number of days during which we had not seen each other, and Christmas Eve was putting an end to that very long series. I had no idea how we had managed to go through such a long separation, but we had made it and it was all that mattered.

My pulse was racing when the locomotive finally entered the station in a cloud of steam. What if he was disappointed when seeing me after such a long time? Maybe he had kept an idealised image of me in his mind and I would not correspond to it anymore. Of course, I had tried to make myself pretty by putting on some make up, but he would probably see nothing since I was wrapped in my scarf and had my hat pulled down on my head to protect me. And my coat was so worn out it was not even nice anymore, but clothes were rationed as well as food, so I had no choice. I just had to hope he would still see in me the girl he had married two years ago.   
  
  


*****   
  
  


I stepped out of the train with some apprehension, not knowing if she would be there like she had told me in her letter. I would not blame her if she was not; I had been away for a whole year, my squadron had been moved further to London and my only leave had been cancelled; she had a life of her own now. But one year and four months later, I was there, ready to get back into her life.

The freezing temperatures of London were not the most welcoming and my overcoat was not thick enough to prevent the cold from biting on my skin. Shivering under an icy gust of wind, I scanned the platform, looking for Freya, but I could not catch sight of her. Disappointment was making its way into my heart when, coming from behind, arms wrapped around me, taking me by surprise. I recognised her fingers clenching my coat thanks to her engagement ring and I heard her sweet chuckles, and I immediately felt at home. She let go of me, enabling me to turn around and face her.

"Welcome home," she greeted me as she hugged me tightly, nestling her face in the crook of my neck. Her cold nose against my warm skin gave me goose bumps, but it was so good to have her back in my arms.

"For how long have you been there?" I asked her. She left the haven that was my body to stare at me and let me admire her gorgeous features.

"Not long, I promise," she answered with a very innocent smile that told me she was lying, but I did not care, she was cute with her red nose, I just hoped she would not get sick.

I leant forward to kiss her, pressing her body against mine to offer her some warmth. I had forgotten how much I loved the feeling of her lips on mine. Given the way she had moved her hands in my hair to intensify the exchange, she had missed it too, and I could not complain. We had both craved such contact for so long, none of us wanted to break the kiss, but we eventually had to breathe again.

"I've missed you so much," I said, panting.

"I've missed you too," she replied, her cheeks reddened by the cold, or by our kiss, I could not tell.

"We should go home, it felt like I was kissing an ice cube," I chaffed her.

She looked at me, faking outrage before attacking me by nuzzling my neck, clinging to my coat so I could not escape her.

"Okay, okay stop!" I laughed, but she was determined to win. "Stop, love, you're killing me!" I implored her.

"I'm just trying to warm myself," she wisely played with me.

"All right, I see," I said as I imprisoned her in my arms and lifted her off the ground to start moving. "Let's warm you at home."

She could not stop giggling as I carried her away, people looking at us as if we were insane. They might think what they wanted, I did not care at all.

Thankfully, the walk to our flat was not too long, so we did not have to spend too much time in the cold. Freya seemed fine, all bundled up in my scarf. I loved the fact that she had decided to wear it when I was not there, to have a bit of me with her. I thought it was terribly sweet.

I shook the snow from my hair and clothes as we climbed up the stairs to our flat, Freya leading the way. I sighed with delight as I passed the front door, not because of the heat, for it was still a bit raw in there, but because it felt good to be at home again. I get rid of my coat and helped Freya out of hers before going to put my bag in our bedroom. When I went back, she had moved to the kitchen and was busying herself around.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked me.

"Yes, but can I have something else first?" I replied as I stepped behind her.

"What?" she invited me to continue, letting me wrap my arms around her.

"You," I whispered in her ear before placing soft, sensual kisses along her neck.

"It tickles!" she chuckled as she tried to avoid my kisses.

"Are you still cold?" I wanted to know, leaving her neck to focus my display of affection on her jaw and cheek instead.

She turned to face me, trapped between my body and the kitchen cabinet behind her.

"Not anymore. How could I still be cold?" she said seductively, pressing her hands to my chest and intensively gazing into my eyes. My attention was drawn to her lower lip that she was biting without even knowing it. She did not even realise that her small reactions were so appealing to me, always arousing my desire.

"You're so gorgeous," I complimented her, admiring her pretty face, reddened by lust.

She closed the gap between us to come and kiss me ardently, her hands pulling on my tie and the fabric of my shirt to bring me closer. I quickly got rid of my jacket, not leaving her lips for a second. Her clever hands took off my tie and started unbuttoning my shirt as I slipped mine under her jumper, lifting it above her head. Clothes were piling up around us on the kitchen floor as we revealed more of our skin to each other. Of course, I desired her more than anything. After almost a year and a half apart, all I wanted was to possess her and worship her, as I had imagined night after night in my dreams while I was away. I swapped position with her and lifted her on the wooden table. Her milky white skin covered with freckles was fresh and soft under my palms, a real treat to my touch. I let my hands wander along every curve of her body and my lips celebrate its beauty. Her fingers grazing my back were a nice proof that my moves had the expected effect on her. She forced me to go back to her lips and she wrapped her legs around me to connect our bodies and show her intentions. She moaned with eagerness when I firmly grabbed her thighs, asking for more.

"I love you," I told her, feeling the need to let her know that nothing had changed.

She smiled as her hypnotising eyes met mine. "I love you too," she declared before kissing me with much passion again.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


"Do you wear them all the time?" Freya asked, playing with the chains that were resting on my chest, her head nestled on my shoulder.

"They never leave me," I replied, and I saw her smile, satisfied with my answer.

She snuggled up to me, enjoying the warmth of my body, her hand softly caressing my neck.

"I love having you with me," she said.

I adjusted the duvet around her, making sure no skin was showing so she would not be cold.

"I love being there with you too," I expressed, thoughtfully playing with her hair.

"I can't wait for the day you'll be back for good," she sighed.

"I hope it will be soon now that the Americans are there with us," I expressed.

"Me too..." she sounded nostalgic. "I want a normal life, with you by my side. I want a family."

"We can have a family," I replied.

"What do you mean?" she puzzledly looked at me.

"I mean, we don't have to wait to have a baby, love. I really want a baby with you," I explained with too much excitement.

"But we said not until the war is over," she said confusedly.

"I know, but what if it never ends? What if it lasts ten more years? Why wouldn't we live to the fullest when we still can?"

"Because you wouldn't be there!"

"I would come back home as often as possible!" I argued.

"Once a year? What's the point in having a child if you can't see that child grow up?" she made a point.

"Yeah, you're right, it's stupid. Forget it," I realised I had gone too far.

"No, it's not stupid! Believe me, I want that as much as you do, but I want to share that experience with you. I need to share it with you. I can't do it alone."

"Christmas spirit got me a bit too excited, sorry," I apologised.

"Let's wait one more year, okay? One more year, and maybe the war will be over and we'll live the life we want,"

"Alright," I paused. "But just saying, I already have names in mind," I said, partly joking.

"Oh, stop it," she laughed, rolling her eyes at me, thinking I was not being serious. But she immediately froze when she saw I was not laughing with her. "Wait, it's true?" she asked, completely astonished.

"Yeah, do you want to know them?" I dared to ask.

"I'd love to!" she replied with genuine interest.

"Okay. So, if it's a girl, Ruth, or Iona. And if it's a boy, Ewan. Or maybe Tomas. Yeah, Tomas is nice."

"Very Scottish," she observed.

"Well, I'm Scottish."

"No, really?" she made fun of me.

"Stop mocking me," I told her as I tried to resist her hug.

"I love them," she finally let me know. "I love the names you chose."

I looked at her and smiled, happy that we would agree on that when the time would come.

"If you love them, should we make a little Tomas then?" I teased her as I moved my body over her, gazing into her eyes.

"I said no baby, Collins!" she giggled as she tried to stop me from kissing her, covering my face with her hands.

"What about protected baby making then?" I suggested, looking at her with puppy eyes, causing her to laugh, but then she softly grabbed my jaw and pressed her lips against mine, and with that she gained all my attention, and even more.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


The radio was releasing a nice background music in the living room where we were all gathered on Christmas Eve. The Collins had kindly invited my father to join them for dinner so I was able to celebrate with all the people that held a special place in my heart. I was standing next to the fireplace, enjoying its warmth. Andrew was just behind me, one of his arms wrapped around my body, holding me close, and I could not help but notice his hand spread over my belly, as if hoping I was carrying his child. I turned my head to look at him smoking his cigarette while casually talking to Mary's husband who had also managed to come home, and I realised I was the only one interpreting his gesture. But I could not wait for the day he would have a good reason to protect me like that.

When a catchy tune came on the radio, he left my side to walk to his mother who was sitting not far.

"Let's dance mama," he told her as he grabbed her hands and forced her to stand up. She gladly followed and started laughing as he made her spin around, his cigarette still trapped between his lips.

I could not turn my eyes away from him. He enlightened the room by his sole presence and his infectious laugh. Everybody loved him and was happy to have him home for Christmas. Me first. If I had to keep one image of him, it would be that one, the one I had in front of my eyes. His joyful smile, his soulful eyes, his adorable dimples, and the kindness he showed towards the people he cared about. We were so lucky to have him in our lives; I was the luckiest to be honest. To be loved by him was a blessing. I just kept looking at him as he hugged his mother tight, letting her enjoy his presence while she still could; just a mother loving her son. But there was no sadness that night, just gratefulness that we could all be together, as a family.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I was woken up by a soft caress on my cheek and slowly opened my eyes, squinting as I let my vision adapt to the light. She was sitting on the side of the bed and smiling lovingly at me. A dreamy vision to wake up to.

"Good morning, and merry Christmas," she greeted me, running her hand through my hair.

I moaned with fatigue as I buried my head in the pillow.

"Come on sleepy head, I've made breakfast," she insisted and leant forwards to kiss my cheek.

I took advantage of that to pull her by the arm and imprison her in my embrace, forcing her to get back into bed with me.

"You're such a child Andrew," she laughed against my chest. "Come on, get up, it's Christmas!" she tried to shake me, but I did not let go.

"I don't want to," I told her, my eyes closed but unable to repress a smile.

"You don't want your present?" she teased me.

"I don't need a present, I've you," I replied as I gazed into her eyes. The glint of fondness that they conveyed when she moved closer to tenderly kiss me was something I had only seen in her. The way she always looked at me was enough to prove me of the extent of her feelings towards me.

"Right," I mumbled against her lips. "Where is my present then?"

"You're unbelievable," she sighed with amusement as she pushed me back and got up.

I left the warmth of the duvet to follow her but immediately shivered in the cold air of the room.

"Christ, it's freezing cold in here!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Then dress up," she told me as she threw my jumper at me, causing her to laugh for it landed right in my face. I quickly put on some clothes and followed my wife to the living room. She had lit a fire in the chimney and the breakfast was all settled on the coffee table, waiting for me. I did not deserve her, but she looked so happy to have prepared all that for me, I felt a bit less guilty. I sat on the couch next to her and started pouring us a cup of tea each and when I turned to hand her one, I discovered she was looking at me with a present in her hands. I put the cup away to take the small packet.

"Thank you," I expressed as I looked at it with curiosity.

"Open it," she encouraged me, hopping up and down with impatience.

I tore the newspaper she had used to wrap the box and I opened it to discover a brand new lighter. I grabbed it and observed its immaculate metallic surface.

"Turn it around," she told me, and so I did. Letters had been engraved on the other side, making it so special, a unique piece that only I would possess. "A & F" was what she had chosen to write. Our initials, a proof of our love that I would be able to carry with me at all time.

"Love..." I looked at her. "It's too much. Thank you," I sincerely expressed.

"I'm so glad you like it!" she smiled. "I wanted to give you something useful and special, that could link you to me," she explained.

"It's perfect," I said as I leant forward to kiss her. "You're perfect."

"Wait here," I said as I got up to go fetch her present that I had hidden somewhere. It was not as thoughtful as her gift but I hoped she would like it nonetheless.

"I feel ashamed now that I know what you got me..." I confessed as I handed her the rectangular packet.

"Don't say that," she reassured me before tearing the paper apart, eager to discover what I had bought her.

"Stefan Zweig!" she exclaimed as she admired the first book. "And Agatha Christie," she looked at the second one I had chosen for her. "I love them both! You couldn't be wrong with that," she said before throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a great big kiss on the cheek.

"I know it's not very romantic and I'm sorry... I wish I had done better for our first Christmas together..." I apologised.

"Done better? It's an amazing gift! Stop it!" she corrected me.

"Are you sure you like them?"

"I do! I can't wait to read them both!" she exclaimed. "I love you," she added, looking straight into my eyes.

"I love you too," I smiled, thankful to have such an amazing wife.

The rest of the day went swiftly as we enjoyed being together to the most. Freya spent the whole morning in my arms, reading one of her new books while I flipped through the newspaper and listened to the radio. We then had lunch outside, strolled hand in hand in the streets of London, went to the cinema with Joseph and his girlfriend who had come back, before heading back home and spending the evening under the blanket, our bodies intertwined, not whiling to leave each other arms for our last night together.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


Time went too fast when we were reunited. It always felt like it was not enough. Two or three days every year or so, it was clearly not enough. It was not enough for relationships to blossom, for families to grow, for feelings to be shared. And so, leaving became more painful with each time, because we felt like we would never have the life we had dreamt, the future we had planned. Our hopes had been shattered by a war that was bigger than anyone could have expected, sacrificing a whole generation of young and promising minds. It was hard to keep faith in such context, but I had to, for Freya and me, in order to stay alive. Each new day was a victory, bringing me closer to a possible peace and the end of my nightmare. I believed it would happen and I would keep on playing my part to make this time come quicker. I just had to stay strong until then; and even if I wanted to give up everything and run away with Freya, even if I felt overwhelmed by the pain of leaving her again, I hid all of it behind a smile and tried to make my wife laugh in order to change her mind. I could feel her trembling against my body and I knew perfectly well that it was not because she was cold, so I tightened my embrace around her to give her some comfort. It probably made it worse for she felt the need to hide her face in my coat and started sniffing.

"We said no crying, love," I tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"I'm not crying," she wanted to be convincing.

"You're the worst liar," I chuckled as I looked at her, or at least the part of her face that she was not hiding from me.

"I'll never get used to it," she said in a low voice.

I softly lifted her chin so she had to look at me.

"I'd be worried if you had become used to it," I told her as I wiped her tears away. She forced a faint smile and placed her hand above mine.

"Listen," I continued. "A new year is going to start soon and this year will be our year, I can feel it. This war is going to end. And I'll come home to you, and bring you to Scotland as promised. This is not a goodbye love, I'll be back."

"You have to," she replied.

"I know, and I will, trust me," I promised.

And to show she trusted me, she pressed her lips against mine, and as I was supposed to enjoy her proof of affection, I just felt bad for making her believe in things I could not even believe myself. I was a good liar contrary to her, but was it that bad to lie if it was to protect her?

I looked at her one more time, engraving her beautiful face in my memory. I hated to have to leave her and only admire her in pictures. She deserved to be praised every day.

"Take me with you," she sighed, her eyes fixed in mine.

"I wish I could," I confessed, stroking her cheek, feeling more melancholic than ever.

The imminent departure was finally announced, and I welcomed it as a blow in the heart as much as a true relief. Goodbyes were a painful moment and the shorter they were, the easier it was for us to move on.

"See you soon," I smiled at her before kissing her with all my love. I told myself to take in the most I could, every little detail about her. The delicacy of her fingers on my skin, her voluptuous lips against mine, her comforting perfume that I wish I could smell every day to feel at home, the warmth of her body that I knew I would miss at night, and her gentle voice, the only sound that managed to soothe me. I would miss her more than anything in the world, and I could not resolve to stop kissing her and move away. I could not make that decision for us, not this time, but the stationmaster finally blew his whistle and she left my lips, leaving me desperate.

"I love you," she declared in a broken voice as I made my way to the train.

"I love you, always," I repeated before turning my back to her. I jumped into the carriage and quickly found a place close to a window where I could look at her one last time. She was standing there alone, her eyes fixed on me, completely lost among a multitude of other women sharing the same burden. She waved at me and bit her lips to prevent herself from crying in front of me. One last time, I mouthed the only words that meant something in that moment before the train left the station, taking me away from the love of my life.


	23. One last time

I think Freya and I had come to peace with the fact that we were living far from each other. Nothing could be done about it so we would just wait until I could go back home to her for good. We were writing a lot to each other, and I could see in her words that she was feeling better. To have her telling me about her everyday life made me feel as if I was there too. She had a talent for describing the most common events and turn them into something poetic, so I kept encouraging her to write more. The better if it was addressed to me. Two days before, she had sent me a new picture of her, one taken by my father. She had cut her hair shorter than usual and she wanted me to see it and tell her if I liked it or not. I loved it. She was as gorgeous as ever, and I wished I could prove her in person. I had sent her a letter instead, to prove it with words, and I had placed her picture in my inside pocket, alongside the one I already had.

I had joined the rest of the team in the meeting room after that, to pass time in good company. I was playing cards, laughing with my teammates, when the phone rang to signal that we had a new mission coming. We immediately stopped our activity and listened carefully to our commander agreeing to what was said to him, impatiently waiting to discover what we would be up for. We exchanged looks as he hung up, knowing names would be called soon.

"Boyle, Jones, David, Edwards. It's your turn," the commander announced.

I was glad I had not been called but David, the new recruit, seemed to welcome the news with some difficulty. He reluctantly got up from the couch to walk to the table covered with maps and documents, and listen to the briefing. I observed him struggle to stay attentive, his eyes lost in the void. I could see he was unwell and totally exhausted, and it wouldn't be clever to ask him to leave on a mission like that.

I joined the group around the table and interrupted them.

"I'm gonna replace David on this one sir," I told my commander, causing the young pilot to look at me with surprise.

"That's really nice of you Collins, but no. I need you here today," my superior immediately stopped me.

"Don't you see he's not fit to fly at the moment? He will put his life in danger, and that of the rest of the team! It's wiser to replace him. Let the boy rest," I argued.

The young fellow reminded me of myself when I had joined the RAF and ended up in Duxford. I had felt completely lost, and as much as fulfilling my dream of becoming a pilot had thrilled me, the whole war dimension had been a lot to process. I had had some down periods, being away from my family for the first time, fearing death, having to become an adult too quickly. But I had had the chance to meet James and to be able to rely on him when things were hard. I knew how morally important it was, and so I needed to be that supportive person for someone else now. In that precise moment, David needed me.

My commander severely looked at me, but he was used to me letting him know my honest thoughts. After all, he had chosen me to be squadron leader. Once again, he knew I was right and so he nodded and ordained David to have some rest, for the next mission would be for him anyway.

"Thank you, Collins," the young pilot told me as he was about to leave. "You didn't have to do that."

"Just buy me a beer later when I'm back and we'll be fine," I joked, giving him a gentle slap on the back.

"Sure," he agreed before giving me a grateful smile and leaving.

I moved next to Boyle to study the information we had and prepare the mission.

"What a good man you are Collins," my friend said in a mocking tone.

"I'm sure you'd have done the same," I chaffed him.

"Your wife would kill you if she knew you were volunteering for more," he laughed.

He was right. Freya would be mad to hear that I was taking more risks, but I was also doing the right thing so she would forgive me.

"That's why she'll never know," I replied as I put a map down on the table. It was time to get to our planes.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


My meal was in the oven, almost ready, and I was about to be done with the washing, leaving me enough time to rest before heading to work. I was rinsing the last plate in the kitchen when someone knocked at the door. I made my way to the hall and dried my hands with my apron, making myself presentable. When I turned the knob, I discovered the mailman searching his bag to give me what had been sent to me, a vision that would always put a smile on my face.

"Hello Mrs Collins, one letter for you today," he greeted me.

"Thank you, Richard. Is it from Andrew?" I asked full of hope.

"It is for sure, I can recognise his handwriting," he replied as he handed me the letter.

"You're always the bearer of good news," I observed with a laugh.

"Only good news with me. Have a good day, and see you soon with another letter from your husband," he winked at me before leaving my doorstep.

"Thank you, have a good day too!" I answered before getting back inside and closing the door behind me.

I observed the letter with excitement. Life alone was not always funny for I was in charge of everything at home, and the solitude I felt was hard to endure, so I welcomed that correspondence from Andrew with much delight. It would be my little break in the middle of a busy day, a time I cherished more than everything, when all that mattered was him.

I was about to open the envelope when I was interrupted by another knock on the door.

"Did you forget to give me something?" I asked as I opened the door, expecting to see the mailman, but it was a telegram boy I discovered instead.

"A telegram for you ma'am," he said as he handed me a paper, avoiding my eyes, visibly embarrassed by the situation.

"Thank you," I accepted it after I slipped Andrew's letter in the pocket of my apron to save it for later.

The weak smile he gave me when he left made my blood run cold. Every family dreaded to receive a telegram, for it was almost always carrying bad news, but this one could not be, not when I had received a sign from my husband just before. Yet it was there, in my hands, and I had to read its content. I mechanically closed the front door and moved to the living room to sit at the edge of the armchair. I could not stay on my feet. All the confidence I had gained minutes earlier crumbled, and apprehension took over, causing my hands to shake uncontrollably. I felt silly to react like that because of a piece of paper, but the more I thought about what message it could deliver, the more I was afraid. I was praying for it to be something not too serious, to inform me he was moved somewhere else, North Africa or further, or maybe that he was just ill. I did not want to read it, I did not have the strength, but no one was there to do it for me, and I had to know.

I took a long, deep breath, feeling like I would not be able to face the truth, whatever it would be. My eyes slowly scanned the sentences that had been printed on the paper, attentively decrypting their message, and with just three words, a bunch of black letters put together, my whole world collapsed. The paper slipped from my hand, and my eyes remained in the void. I could not hear anything or see anything. I was not even breathing anymore. I dug my fingers into the armrest to help me get up and I looked around, seeking for someone, a presence that could hold me when I felt I was falling apart. A loud sob escaped my throat when I realised I was left alone in that flat and no one, no one was here to tell me it was not real. It could not be true, not now, not ever. I could not believe it. I did not want to believe it. In despair, I grabbed the telegram that had landed on the floor and reread the first sentences in case it had been a terrible mistake, but the same words were still there, black on white.

"Lost his life."

A cry of agony left my mouth as I fell on my knees, incapable of bearing such pain. They had ripped me open and torn me apart, they had deprived me of my other half. Andrew, my husband, the love of my life, had died in action. My biggest fear had turned into reality and let its darkness invade my life. I could not feel anything but pain. A pain so strong it had crushed my heart and thrown it to the floor, broken into a million pieces. In one second, my world had become my worst nightmare. I could not process anything, I could not make a decision, nor even move. I just remained on the floor, completely stunned, the letter squeezed in my fist, endless tears rolling down my cheeks, my haunting cries echoing in the void that he had left behind him.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


The room was already filled with light when I woke up that morning and a feeling of unease seized me as soon as I opened my eyes, as if something wrong had happened but I had no idea what. I usually did not sleep for so long, but I was incredibly out of energy, and yet I did not hurry, I knew I would not be late for work. I looked at Andrew's space in the bed that remained terribly empty and turned to face the other side. I missed him way too much. Three months of separation were already unbearable. Watching his picture on the bedside table brought me comfort, until I suddenly remembered the reason of my uneasiness. Images of the nightmare I had experienced came back to my mind. I had dreamt that he was dead and it had felt so real, so detailed, it was not a wonder it had made me feel desperately bad. I hated that kind of sad dreams, for even if I knew they were not real, they always cast a shadow upon my thoughts and haunted me for the rest of the day.

Moody and tired, I eventually got up and walked to the door, but I stopped when I met my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, and tears had marked my cheeks, as if I had cried in my sleep. This nightmare had been worse than the others, and I hoped war would end soon, afraid of what I would have to go through if it happened again. I laughed at how awful I looked and thought about how Andrew would have made fun of me for being so emotional about something that came from my imagination. His warm and reassuring embrace would have been a blessing in that moment.

I wrapped myself in my nightgown and left my bedroom, trying to shake the negative thoughts out of my head. I would not let a stupid dream ruin my day. It would not happen like I had imagined; nobody would bring me a telegram, nobody would die, and Andrew would come back home like he had always done, like he had promised. It was all about being positive. A good cup of tea and some fresh air would do their job. I finished rubbing my eyes as I entered the living room and suddenly stopped in my track as I discovered Jane on the couch. She immediately closed the book she was reading, and I wished I had never met her eyes, for the look she gave me told me the feeling I was trying to erase was more than real.

"No, you can't be here," I refused to face the truth.

"Freya..." she softly said as she got up and came to me.

"It was a dream!" I tried to convince myself as I made a step back to avoid her touch. She was not real, I was still dreaming.

She remained silent but the sadness and pity in her eyes stabbed me in the heart.

"No," I sobbed as I surrendered and fell in her arms. "It can't be! It can't be!" I cried, weakened by the striking pain that had crept over me, again. "Not Andrew, please, no!" I could not believe it was my dreadful cries I could hear. It was not my voice but that of a stranger, it was like an animal wailing, filling the silence with nothing but pain.

And then, everything came back to me. I remembered the darkness of the room, the smell of burnt food and the front door being abruptly opened. I remembered arms wrapping around me and Jane's voice trying to soothe me, but I could not decipher a word. I remembered clinging to her and bursting into tears again, letting all my sorrow come out. Strong male arms had helped me get up and carried me to my bed, but because I was in a semi-conscious state, I could not tell if it was Andrew's father or Joseph. All I could tell was that Jane never left my side that evening. She put me to bed as if I was one of her children, held me close against her heart and rocked me until I had no tears left to cry and I passed away with exhaustion.

Reality, with its cruelty, was unbearable. I could not face it. Suddenly, everything became too much; Jane's comforting embrace was suffocating, our flat, which had witnessed so many precious moments of my life with Andrew, appeared hostile, the air unbreathable. My heart ached to the point I was gasping for breath.

"I'm here," she tried to reassure me, but it had no effect on me.

"I want Andrew," I cried, making it worse for both of us.

Why would something like that happen to us? My Andrew did not deserve that. I refused to believe he was gone for good, for it meant all our dreams would never become true. No family of our own. Andrew would never lay his protective hand over my belly to feel our baby kick, because there would never be a baby Collins. No buying a house in his hometown to spend our life there. No growing old together. He had not been allowed. He had been cut down in his youth, deprived of a bright future and with that, they had taken his love away from me, leaving me empty and incomplete. My life made no sense if I could never feel his eyes on me again, if I could not hear his voice, smell his perfume, receive his kisses, seek refuge in his arms or sleep at his side. No, it made no sense. Not to me. Without him, I had no desire to live anymore.


	24. To live or to die

Two weeks had passed since the terrible news. Or was it three weeks? Time was not relevant to me anymore. Seconds, minutes, hours, they were all the same. My life had been one never-ending day, a very long night that had swallowed me in its gloom. I had been avoiding the outside, living exclusively in our bedroom, never leaving our bed. This room had witnessed most of our moments together, the most intimate declarations of love as well as the most precious bursts of laughter. It was now my prison, one I had built for myself. Staying there was like clinging to his memory, refusing to let him go, even if he was not there anymore.

The curtains were constantly drawn to hide the rest of the world that was mocking me. The blue sky, the blossomed trees and the singing birds were a harsh reminder that the cycle of life was moving on without me. I was a mere spectator of the city and its people, condemned to look at the happiness of passers-by and witness what I would never experience on my own. I didn't have the strength to face this reality and I had locked myself inside, losing myself in my overwhelming sorrow.

Days would pass without me leaving my bed, or eating anything. I had lost everything; joy, appetite, feelings and will to live. I had tried to find a purpose, a will to go on, but every thought of a life without him made me cry until suffocation. He used to be my future, and now I had no future anymore. I was waiting for the end of my suffering, which, it seemed, would never come. It was as if the devastation I was feeling in my heart had turned into physical pain, as a proof that my distress was legit. It had been so intense sometimes, I had lost my breath and collapsed in weakness. I could not stand strong, I had no reason to anymore.

My relatives had tried to save me from drowning, but they could not do anything if I was not fighting to swim to the surface. They were my life jacket, keeping me alive when I had myself given up and was waiting to sink to the bottom of the ocean. My dad had been there to wipe my tears but his worry grew stronger when he realised he could not stop them from falling. Joseph had tried to cheer me up with news from the pub, but he had been met by my unbroken silence and my vacant stare. Andrew's sisters and parents had been visiting me every day, forcing me to get up, to shower, or try to eat. They did their best. As much as I wanted to be left alone, Andrew's picture pressed to my heart, lost in my thoughts, I probably needed their presence by my side and they knew it. They tried to give me the reasons I needed to move on and resume my life without Andrew, like that letter they had received that they hoped would give me a kind of closing. It had been sent shortly after Andrew's death by one of his teammates, to give us the context we had been lacking, to answer our questions about how something like that could have happened. I could see myself sitting in the armchair, holding a warm mug of tea while listening to Andrew's father reading its content to me.

" _I feel responsible for Andrew's death and for that, I will never be able to apologise enough,"_ was how he had started it, causing my stomach to be all tied up with knots, but I kept listening nonetheless. _"He has always been kind to me, sometimes playful, sometimes too honest, but always righteous. He was like a big brother and always acted as such, like the day he left us. All I can say is that it should have been me. I had been called, not him. I was tired, I was sad and scared and he had noticed. And because he was so kind and helpful, he offered to stand in for me, and I did not refuse. I was so glad I could avoid such frightening duty, I have let him do my work, without thinking he had a family in London, he had a wife at home, waiting for him to come back alive, while I did not have much to lose. But he made it sound right and forbade me to feel guilty. He left confident, smiling, joking about how I would owe him a beer later that day; but he never came back. He was shot down by a German fighter. Our teammates said the weather turned awful that day and they were lost in a thick layer of clouds when they encountered the enemy. The dogfight was intense and way too dangerous, for the bad visibility prevented them from distinguishing the German aircraft from the British ones. And so Andrew ordered to retreat. It happened when he was checking that the three other fighters were still responding to his call. His radio turned silent and his plane was swallowed by the clouds, in front of one of my teammates. He had no chance to avoid the firing, for the enemy came by surprise, and nobody had seen him. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But it should have been me. I should have died that day, not him, and for that, I'm terribly sorry._ "

His words, I would never forget. They had reopened wounds that would take a lifetime to heal. They had comforted me in the idea that it could have been avoided, and they had left me petrified on my chair for hours, the untouched cup of tea still in my hands. The affliction I was feeling was briefly replaced with anger at discovering that Andrew had voluntarily put his life at risk knowing what the consequences could be, and I was the one to suffer them. He had promised me to come back. He had told me he would come back to me for good and I had trusted him, but now he was gone forever. He had abandoned me.

Oh, how I wished he had not been such a good person. If only he had been selfish. Couldn't he think about us first? His generous heart, that had made me fall for him in the first place, had caused his death. His greatest strength had proved to be his weakness too. I was torn between my persistent hope that it was a mistake, and the excruciating lack of doubt in the words I had received, but I just could not accept that he was gone. It was all the more difficult that his spitfire had crashed overseas, in France, preventing me from saying goodbye one last time and grieving over his body. How was I supposed to move on if I could not see him before I had to take on this journey alone? I could not bear to imagine his body left alone in a foreign country, at the mercy of everything and everyone. I wished we could have taken care of him and offered him a decent sepulchre, but all we got to ease our sorrow was the few belongings he had brought to his base. Some clothes, a book he had taken from my collection, and a notebook, in which I had discovered his attempts at writing me a poem. Pages and pages of sweet words and crossing-outs that he had never given me for fear it would not be good enough. My perfectionist husband thought I deserved better, but discovering that genuine proof of love reminded me how huge and painful my loss was. Just thinking about it made me sick.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


Sick I was indeed. My body had been aching for days now, and it was only getting worse. I had wanted my suffering to end for so long, I felt my wish was about to be granted. I was afraid of death, but I was dreading to have to spend a lifetime without Andrew, and so I had given up. Vomiting, headaches, stomach pain, exhaustion, cold sweat and shivers; as many symptoms that had added up and alarmed my mother-in-law, but that I refused to take seriously. She had not left my side for an entire week, and was practically living in my flat now. I could hear her busy herself in the kitchen while I was trying to find some warmth under the blanket. When she finally came back in the bedroom, she was holding a cup of tea that she would want me to drink while I could not swallow anything. She placed it on the bedside table, and sat on the armchair next to my bed, her designated spot by my side.

"Freya, darling, this is not good..." she sighed as she pressed her palm against my forehead to check my temperature. The coolness of her hand was soothing for a brief second.

"Mary went to fetch the doctor. He should be there in a minute."

"I don't need a doctor," I faintly tried to argue.

"I refuse to let you suffer like that. It's not just grief anymore, there is something else," she scolded me.

I remained silent. What could I say anyway? She was probably right. There was something wrong and I was sure it was my fault.

"Andrew, he wouldn't want to see you like that..." she added after a while.

"I know, I'm sorry," I looked at her to ask for her forgiveness.

"Oh darling, please, don't apologise! I don't say that to make you feel bad, but I've promised my son I would take care of you," she faintly smiled at me and squeezed my hand.

"I don't know how to live without him," I confessed in a trembling voice.

"You don't have to live without him. He's everywhere around us, and most importantly, he's in your heart," she corrected me.

My eyes filled with tears for even though I wanted to convince myself she was right, I knew I would miss him forever and nobody, or nothing, would ever fill the lack that was now part of my life. And the worst thing was not his absence, but all the questions that kept haunting me when I closed my eyes and that would never find answers. Did he suffer or did he die instantly? Did he have time to realise what was happening? Did he know he was going to die? Was he scared? Or did everything happen in the blink of an eye? I hoped his death had been quick for imagining him leaving this world in utter suffering was a torture.

I was about to share my fears with Cathy when we were interrupted by Mary and the doctor entering the room. Cathy immediately stood up to greet him and exchange words with him. I could feel the man's eyes on me as he listened to what she had to say. Once done, he approached me and sat on the side of the bed.

"Good afternoon Freya. I haven't seen you in a while," he tried to be friendly. "I'm here to help you," he informed me as he laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

"I don't need help," I harshly replied, avoiding his eyes.

My sorrow had made me stubborn and unpleasant, I was conscious of that. I had nothing personal against him, the man was nice, but all I wanted was to be alone, and so I tried to drive people away from me, unsuccessfully.

"Your body says otherwise," he observed as I tried to control my shaking hands. "Will you let me help you?" he asked.

I grudgingly accepted, hoping he would soon leave.

"Where exactly does it hurt?" he started, but I did not reply, unwilling to be cooperative.

"She has very strong stomach pain. And she's constantly tired," Cathy answered for me, as a mother would speak for her daughter.

"Does it hurt when I press here?" he asked as he put pressure on my lower belly.

I winced in pain and gave him the answer he needed.

"Do you eat enough?" he inquired as he looked at Andrew's mother, expecting her to speak instead of me, but I decided to do it myself.

"I can't eat."

"She has no appetite," Cathy added.

"Do you feel nauseous?" he went on.

"Most of the time," I let him know.

He nodded, a concerned look on his face. He then checked my temperature, my throat and my chest. He asked a couple more questions that I did not really listen to, my eyes fixed on Andrew's portrait since the beginning of the examination. As he collected his instruments, he turned to Catherine, his face so serious she instantly got up.

"Oh doctor, please tell me you can make her feel better!" she implored him, fearing a severe condition, while I would welcome it as a blessing.

"Can I talk to you in private for a moment?" he invited her to follow him outside the room, leaving me with Mary who joined my side, smiling weakly at me. We could hear them whisper from the half-open door but could not decipher most of what was said. I knew I was the main subject, but I did not have my say in any of what was said, even if it was my life they were talking about, or what remained of it. When his voice took a dark tone and she muffled a sob, I knew it could not be good, but I was not worried. If my time was to come, then I would be reunited with my love, and it was all I wanted.

When Cathy came back in the room, I noticed she had a mixed expression and I did not know what to do with it.

"What's wrong with me?" I dared to ask as I sat up straight using the little energy I had left, looking at her in expectation.

"Nothing, darling," she sniffed. "You've been overwhelmed, that's all, and you forgot to take care of yourself. Your body is just reminding you to treat it right."

"I'm trying, but I don't have the strength," I admitted.

"You'll have to find it, because it's not just you anymore," she said in a soft voice as she stroked my cheek.

"What do you mean?" I asked, completely lost.

"You're going to have a baby," she announced with tears in her eyes. I could hear Mary's cry of surprise by my side but I, for my part, was unable to process the information.

"Darling, you're pregnant!" she repeated as she took my hands in hers and squeezed them with excitement.

"No, it's impossible!" I refused to believe she was right. "Andrew and I ... we made sure it would not happen before the end of the war!" I panicked. It had to be a joke, a cruel, horrible joke.

"Life always finds a way," she tried to comfort me.

"It's a blessing, Freya!" Mary added as she sat on the bed next to me.

"I can't do that," I looked at them in despair. "Not without him!"

I burst into tears as Cathy took me in her arms to try to calm me down, quickly joined by her daughter. "It's going to be alright," was all she managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion. "Everything will be alright."


	25. She remembers

With time, my sorrow had faded away, leaving me numb, but a bit stronger. There was no denying it anymore, my body clearly showed that it was no longer just about my own person. I was carrying life and thus, Andrew was still there with me. He was there one way or another, as he had promised at our wedding. This pregnancy had proved to be a blessing and a curse at once. A blessing for it had given me a reason to fight and carry on, and a curse for I didn't know how to deal with such responsibility. I would do it nonetheless, for Andrew. It was the least I could do to commemorate his beautiful soul, he, who had been so excited at the mere thought of becoming a father one day. I would carry his legacy, I would make sure his name was not forgotten and I would bring this baby, this part of him, to the world.

A weak smile formed on my lips as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I flattened the fabric of my dress around the round bump formed by my ever-growing belly. I could remember the first time I had felt the baby kicking, and how the joyful feeling triggered by such miracle had quickly been spoiled when realising the person I wanted to share that moment with was not by my side. I hated the fact that Andrew would never know his child and that he had left this world ignoring that his wish of a family had been granted. If only I had known earlier, if only he could have had this comforting thought with him, to know that a piece of him would survive... As I raised my eyes to meet my reflection, every trace of a smile had disappeared from my face, but I refused to cry. I needed to be strong, but it proved to be a struggle when every single object in that home reminded me of my loss.

I had kept everything as it was before Andrew's death, incapable of getting rid of something I knew was linked to him one way or another, for it felt like erasing his memory from our place. And so, his favourite jacket was still hung beside the mirror in the entrance, and the pack of cigarettes he had forgotten was still waiting for him on the table. No, I could not get rid of these objects, even if it meant I had to suffer every time I saw them. Nothing was heavier than the weight of my lover's dead body, like a ghost weighing on my shoulders, keeping my head underwater. I could not let him go, I did not want to, because I wanted him back.

I left the place to seek refuge in the living room, but there again, I could feel his presence. Suddenly, he was everywhere. His tall frame was in front of me, leaning against the mantelpiece, casually smoking his cigarette as he looked at me with a sparkle in his eyes. I could almost smell his perfume for he seemed so real. I turned around and there he was again, slouched in the sofa, one of his legs propped on the armrest, holding a book over his head as he read aloud one of his favourite quotes to share it with me. I could see him turn his face towards me and give me a radiant smile that would make my heart melt. Then, my feet led me to the corridor and I could hear him call my name from the bathroom and ask me to bring him a towel for he had forgotten to take one. I had refused to do it that day, for I had been in the mood to tease him, and I had left him completely wet and falsely outraged, drops of water dripping down his body. The memories were intact, and I could see him run after me to catch me at the entrance of our bedroom and imprison me in his damp embrace to take his revenge. I could hear his joyful laugh mingling with my squeals of happiness, a beautiful song that I did not want to ever forget. We were merry and carefree, feeling like nothing could ever come between us, ignoring the cruel fate that would befall us. And when I opened the door to our bedroom, he was still there, soundly asleep in our bed. I could admire him, lying on his stomach, as I had done several months before. The bed sheet covering his legs up to his waist was just enough to let me observe his body rise and fall with every peaceful breath, and enjoy the defined muscles of his back and his broad shoulders. He looked so innocent when sleeping, I had cherished that vision more than anything. What had warmed my heart even more was the fact that he had extended his arm across the empty space at his right, my place in the bed, as if looking for my presence. He would always hold me close against him at night, nuzzling my neck to inhale my perfume, and it was the only way he would fall asleep.

I missed him. I missed all those little things that made him who he was, made us who we were. I needed all of those things in my life again, but he was gone... and with that harsh reminder, his ghost suddenly vanished. I was alone again. Distraught, I sat at the edge of the bed and took his portrait in my hands, seeking comfort in his smile. I imagined what he would have said to me from wherever he was now. He would have probably told me not to worry about him, to be strong and to move forwards. He would have told me that he loved me and our baby. And he would not be sad, he never was. He would not be angry either, but just accepting his fate and telling me to do the same for there was nothing that could be done about it, but it was too much to ask from me. He had always been so proud to fight for his country, I hoped it would remember him. I hoped he did not die in vain, and that in the end, we would win this war. For him, and for all those who had lost their lives defending their nation. I choked back tears and took a deep breath before putting the frame back on the bedside table. I still had a lot to do in this flat.

Keep myself busy. It was the only remedy I had found to stop thinking too much. Cooking, cleaning, washing, sewing, dusting, again and again, until I was too tired to go on. On that afternoon of July, following my own rules, I had set my basin outside on the balcony, well determined to take advantage of the sunny weather to do my laundry. The nice summer breeze would make my clothes dry in no time. One by one, I immersed them into the warm soapy water, but as I was about to do the same with an old apron that I had forgotten somewhere and found again recently, I felt something resistant under my fingers. Intrigued, I searched its pocket and what I put out made me go back in time. It was Andrew's letter; the last one he had sent me and that I had received the same day I was told he was dead. I could not believe I had forgotten about it. Because of my negligence, one corner of the envelope had been in contact with water, and I hurried to take the letter out for fear some words would be erased. A wave of mixed emotions overwhelmed me as I rediscovered his handwriting. I had already read his previous letters several times, but this one was a new one, those were new words that he had addressed to me when everything was still fine. To read them now was strange, for I had the false impression that he was still alive, that he would come back home in a few weeks when it was clear it would never happen again.

" _My love,_

_Only three months that I have left you, and yet it feels like a lifetime._

_I hope life in London is not too hard and you're happy even if we're not together. It's funny, if I can say so, you seem to cope much better with the distance now, while I'm struggling more and more with each day. I'm weary of this war. I'm sick of seeing people die. When that conflict started, I genuinely thought it would only last a few months, we all did. See how we were wrong? We're more than three years into it now, already. And it's way too long. I just wish it was over and I could go home to rest in your arms. Only you manage to appease me, you know it. I think you have that effect on me even when you're not there. I just have to think about you and when I picture your smile, everything gets better._

_I dreamed about you last night and it felt so real. Honestly, I thought war was over. We were in the countryside, in my hometown, and I was showing you my favourite places and sharing my childhood memories with you. It made me very happy to be there with you, my beautiful wife. It was so hard to wake up, I wish it could have lasted forever. Sadly, this is what war does to us, it turns the lives we should have had into dreams only. Anyway, I promise I'll make that dream come true! Mark my words my love!_

_Oh, and before I forget, thank you so much for the photograph you added to your last letter. You're stunning! A true beauty! I have to admit that I'm even more scared now that someone will try to take you away from me during my absence, but then I know the way you love me and I know the way I love you. So please, keep that new haircut until next time I come back home. I want to show you the effect you have on me! (Am I allowed to say that? Don't blame me, I miss you!) Until then, I'm keeping that photograph with me at all time, like the first one you gave me, and that taken at our wedding._

_I thought maybe you would like to have one of me too, so here's one with Tango, the squadron mascot. I'm pretty sure he'll get all your attention because he's way more handsome than I am. I'm trying my best though._

_I'm sorry but I have to leave you now. Be sure that I love you with all my heart, and that nothing is ever going to change that. I'll love you forever, for as long as I'm alive and even beyond. I'll always be yours._

_Until next time, my love,_

_Your pilot_."

There was indeed a photograph of him posing in front of his Spitfire, squatting next to a beautiful German shepherd. Andrew was wearing his thick leather jacket over his uniform and he was petting the dog while looking straight at the camera, a beaming smile enlightening his face. The wind was messing with his hair, but he looked more handsome than ever. I adored his smile, the joy, warmth and innocence it conveyed, and I missed it. He was my sunshine. I lost myself in the contemplation of the photograph, not feeling like doing anything else but admire him and fix that image of him in my mind, to remember his happy soul. I would have been lying if I had said that letter had not shaken me to my core, but what I was feeling was a mix of sadness and sweet melancholy. And even though I felt like crying, I also found myself smiling, knowing I had experienced the most beautiful form of love.

A sudden knock on the main door pulled me out of my reverie, but I did not move. I did not want to see anyone, and hopefully, the visitor would think I was out and leave, but it happened again. I gathered the pages of the letter and the photograph, and pressed them against my heart as I got up, listening carefully to know if the visitor had left. The pounding became stronger and more insistent, making me jump with surprise. I hurried to the entrance and put my mail on the table before opening the door, and then, the world stopped spinning. I was not expecting to see him there, on my doorstep, in his RAF uniform. I had not imagined he could come back and stand there as if nothing had happened. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he said carefully, not sure how to act because of the way I was looking at him. I had instantly frozen when I had discovered him, and as much as I wanted to say something, I proved incapable of making a sound. Words were stuck in my throat, and the tears I had been holding for so long started falling uncontrollably, so much that he immediately stepped inside to take me in his arms. I let his comforting hands stroke my hair as he tried to calm my cries.

"I thought you were dead," I finally managed to say.


	26. The moments we should have shared

"I'm so sorry..." James tried to comfort me. "I came as soon as I heard."

I clung to his jacket and tried to control my sobbing.

"I wish I was dead and not him. You guys deserved to be together."

"Please, don't say that," I stopped him as I left his embrace. "It's not helping."

"You're right. Sorry..." he apologised and scratched his cheek with embarrassment, looking down, but he immediately raised his head again and looked at me with genuine surprise.

"You're pregnant?!" he asked.

I nodded. He had seen my belly anyway, it was just a rhetorical question.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed and let out a sigh. "Sorry, I was not expecting that," he added, which caused me to smile.

"How long?" he asked again.

"Six months. Roughly," I informed him.

"Already?"

"Already."

"So, he knew?"

"No... No, it wasn't planned. I discovered weeks after he died."

"It's unfair!" he let out.

"That's war..." I observed.

"At least, he made sure you wouldn't be alone," he tried to cheer me up.

"I don't think it was intentional, but yes, we can say that it's a Christmas miracle," I smiled at the idea. "Do you want to feel the baby?" I asked James who was looking at me as if craving to do it.

"I'd love to!" he immediately replied.

And so, I took his hand and pressed it against my belly, resting mine on top. Within seconds, the baby was moving as if to greet his father's best friend. A smile grew on James's face, who was astonished by such new sensation.

"It's an active one," he observed.

"Just like its father," I said and grinned warmly at him.

"I can't believe you guys made a baby! Did I leave such a long time ago?" he joked.

"Well... A lot happened!" I laughed.

"You've got to tell me everything," he exclaimed.

"I think you've got a lot to tell me too," I replied as I invited him to follow me to the living room, hoping he would tell me what had happened to him during the last two years.

*****

Of all the ways I had imagined I would find things after I had managed to escape enemy's territory, this one had never occurred to me. I had been through some tough moments, but to see her so broken-hearted and inconsolable had been the hardest. It was written all over her body that she had suffered an incommensurable loss, from her hollow eyes often looking into the void to her bony hands playing with her necklace. It was a miracle she had not crumbled into my arms. I had no idea how to help her, lift the weight off her heart, but I wanted to. I knew I wasn't the one she had wanted to see on her doorstep, and yet, she seemed glad to have me by her side, telling me about all I had missed during my absence.

"Believe it or not, but we had the perfect wedding. I think the fact that we had to plan it in a rush made it even more special," she let me know.

"You guys were not afraid to skip some steps, and I quite admire you for that. Well, maybe not at the beginning," I joked, "you were both so complicated when everything was so obvious."

"It's true, but I wouldn't have had it any other way," she smiled thoughtfully.

"I wish I was there, at the wedding," I told her as I placed the photograph she had shown me in front of her, looking one last time at the perfect couple they had formed.

"I know. He missed you, more than he would admit, especially on that day."

"He's always seen himself as less capable, but he managed well without me. He didn't need me. He's done more than I ever will."

"He wanted to make you proud, being to others what you had been to him. He was brave, but he was scared too, you know. He was scared, even if he pretended the contrary. I could see it in his eyes, he knew this would happen, and I didn't believe him," her voice broke to express her sorrow.

"You couldn't predict he would leave us. You couldn't do anything," I tried to bring her some comfort.

"I still can't believe I'll never see him again," she emptied her heart. "I'm so lonely without him."

"I'll help you, with the baby, with everything. I'll stay with you, like I've promised him I would do, and I'm glad to do it."

"But you'll have to go back..."

"No, the missions are over for me. They keep me here in London and around to train other pilots. They probably think I've seen enough."

"It's a good thing."

"I know we're not the closest friends, but Andy was my brother, and you're like family. I'll stay with you Freya, I'll be there when you need me, I'll be there to listen, to remember the past, to wipe your tears and help you keep going. I'll be by your side every step of the way, for you and for him," I assured her as I took her hands in mine. She did not say a thing but she smiled, a smile that told me she would let me take care of her. She would struggle with his death, she would collapse under the weight of her mourning, but I would pick her up, and I would make sure she got the life he wanted her to have.

*****

I had a medical appointment scheduled for the next day, and James had kindly offered to walk me to the hospital for he had someone to visit in the neighbourhood. I was always afraid that something wrong might happen because I had unconsciously neglected that pregnancy for several months. I was not the best start, but to my greatest relief, the baby was healthy, and it was the most important. The problem was elsewhere, the doctor was worried about me, and I wished he was not. He had told me I looked tired and showed some concerning signs of weakness, and he had asked me to be careful. It was true I was tired, but I knew how to take care of myself, I knew how I felt and I tried to convince him that I was fine, but it was unsuccessful.

He advised me to leave London for a while and rest in the countryside, that it was very important if I wanted to preserve my health and that of the baby, but there was no way I would leave my apartment, so full of Andrew's presence. There was no way I would lose him a second time. I had lied and said I would think about it, but I had already made up my mind. I would stay in London.

As I left the doctor's office, quite upset with what I had been told, I stumbled upon the next patients to be received, and I wished I could have disappeared instantly.

"Oh, Freya. Hi!" my ex-boyfriend greeted me.

I would have probably run away if the circumstances had been different, but he was standing there, right in front of me, and I just could not ignore him, especially since he was not alone. He had a very beautiful woman at his arm, and he was looking at me with kind eyes. Kindness, something I had not seen in him for a long time.

"Lewis," I replied with no tenderness in my voice.

"How are you?" he carefully asked.

"I'm okay," I simply said.

He noticed that I was looking at his partner and I could see that it made him uncomfortable.

"Oh, this is my wife, Lisie," he finally decided to introduce her. "And Lisie, this is Freya, I've talked to you about her."

Did he say wife? I could not believe it, but I pretended it did not affect me. I politely addressed her a smile, but I made no effort to appear friendly. I just wanted to escape that awkward situation.

"You're pregnant too!" she exclaimed and reached for my belly without asking permission. "I'm four months pregnant, what about you?" she asked.

"I'm...uh. Six." I answered, completely unsettled by her announcement and her behaviour towards me.

"What an amazing journey it is, to become parents, don't you think? Are your husband and you excited to meet this little baby? Lewis and I can't—" but she was cut short by her husband.

"Lisie! I told you about Freya's situation," he scolded her in a low voice.

She instantly turned red and looked at me with apologising eyes. I could not hate her.

"I heard for your... husband," Lewis started, and I prayed for him to immediately stop talking about Andrew, but he went on. "I'm sorry for what happened. I was worried about you..." he added in a deeply sympathetic voice.

He almost sounded sincere, and it hurt me to see that he had changed so much. Or at least pretended to have changed.

"We've to go, darling," Lisie told him, inviting him to follow her for their appointment. Lewis looked at her, then at me, before turning to her again. He seemed hesitant.

"I've to go anyway," I made it easier for him. "Goodbye!" I said as I started walking away to leave my haunting past behind me.

"Wait, Freya!"

I turned around to see that he had run after me, letting his wife start the appointment without him.

"I don't like to see you like that! I... Do you need help? With anything? I can give you money, or I can come and help you at home until you have the baby. And even after," he offered.

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

"But are you sure you can deal with this alone?" he insisted.

"I'm not alone. And you have a wife and your own baby on its way. They should be your priority."

"I know. I know..." he ran a hand across his face.

"She seems very nice. Don't ruin this. She deserves the best version of yourself."

He looked at me and laughed nervously.

"I've been an arsehole with you, haven't I? You were right the whole time. Hadn't I fucked up everything, we would have been here as a couple today. You would be my wife and we would have a baby together. I've lost you, and I know it's too late, but I won't make the same mistake with Lisie. I'm lucky to have her."

I remained silent. Good for him, but I did not care much about his happiness.

"Just like your husband was lucky to have you. He was a good man and I'm glad he took care of you and gave you all the love you deserved. I'm just sorry I wasn't that man for you."

"Are you serious?" I lost it. "I don't want you to say that! I don't want to hear it from you!"

"I'm—" he tried to defend himself and took a step back, surprised by my reaction.

"You were the one saying you wanted him to die and now you've the audacity to feel sorry for me? How dare you?"

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I was jealous Freya! I held him responsible for our breakup when I was the only one to blame! I never wished for you to suffer. I hate to see you like that!"

"I don't want your pity! I don't need your help. Just leave me alone, forget about me and go back to your perfect life even if you don't deserve it!"

"Freya!" he tried to hold me back, but I was already gone.

I run down the stairs and hurried out of the building, away from Lewis. I stopped on the pavement when I felt the rain on my face, each drop reminding me that despite it all, I was alive. The pain that tore me apart would never go away. It was part of my life, it was a part of me and I was used to it. But to see that Lewis was happy and in love, to see that he had everything while I had lost everything had rekindled the sadness and anger in my heart. Why was I the only one who had to suffer over and over again while he, who had been a monster, was to enjoy his life with his wife? Why was it so unfair? What had I done to deserve that? I should have been allowed to share that pregnancy with the love of my life. We should have been allowed to have a big family and grow old together, but I was just me and that baby, and it was terribly unfair. In that moment, I wished I could become immune to feelings and that the rain, instead of making me more miserable, would wash away my pain.

*****

By the time James finally showed up, I was soaked to the bones, but I did not care.

"Freya! What are you doing?" he worried. "You should have waited inside!"

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around me.

"Here, take that," he said as he stroked my shoulders.

"Can we go home?" I asked, weakly.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Can we go home?" I repeated.

"Of course! Of course," he agreed as he carefully guided me to the other side of the street, avoiding the cars and passers-by.

I did not say a word and kept my eyes to my feet, only clinging to James's arm and following him through the streets. I could feel his eyes on me and I could tell he was dying to know what had made me so withdrawn, and he soon expressed his worry.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Did the doctor say something?" he insisted as the result of my silence. "Is the baby okay Freya?"

"Yes," I replied to try to reassure him, for I could hear the concern in his voice.

"Then what did he say? Why are you like that? You're scaring me!"

"The baby is healthy, but he wants me to leave London. To rest in a more peaceful environment," I explained, purposely omitting to mention Lewis.

"It might be a good idea," he expressed.

"I won't leave my flat, no way! It's where I'm supposed to be. That's where my husband was supposed to be. I can still feel his presence there..."

"But if it's for your own good, you should consider it. You can come back later. Leaving London won't make you forget Andrew."

"I said no!" I shouted aggressively. "I know what's best for me!"

James did not say anything after that and I felt bad for having reacted that way for he had done nothing wrong. He knew it was not personal because he did not leave my side and walked me back home when he could have just left me alone. Once at my place, he did not try to make me speak more, and I was appreciative of his understanding.

"I'm going to my room to change," I informed him.

"Okay, I'll make tea then."

When I stepped into my bedroom, I immediately walked towards the bedside table and laid my eyes on Andrew's photograph. I grabbed it, as I had done so many times before, and looked at him to try to find some peace, but all I could feel was the emptiness in my heart that nothing and no one could fill.

"I miss you," I told him as if he could hear me. "Come back to me. Please, come back to me. Don't leave me alone. I can't... do it without you. I need you," I sobbed. I did not know to whom my prayers were addressed, but I hoped they would be heard. I was trying my best to stay strong, but seeing Lewis enjoying all the things that I had been deprived of had brought back all the dark thoughts and painful realisations I had tried to avoid. Even if it had been written black on white that Andrew was dead, I had never stopped hoping that it could have been a mistake. But as months had passed and he had not come back, the certainty of his death had forced itself into my heart until I could not escape it. On that day, the thought of it had been unbearable. I would never be happy again.

All the pressure accumulated during the day became too much to handle and I let myself cry in silence, tremors running through my body. I had been holding my breath for too long, hiding the pain deep inside, but I had reached my limits. I was agonising. As I let out all my sorrow, I unconsciously let the frame slip from my hands and crash onto the floor into a million pieces, glass flying everywhere. Horror seized me as I discovered the disaster I had caused, and I immediately fell to my knees to try to fix it. Completely panicked, I gathered the pieces of glass with my bare hands to put them together, unsuccessfully. "I'm sorry!" I said as I saw Andrew's face disfigured behind the splinters of glass. "What have I done?"

"Freya, what are you doing? Don't touch that!" James had burst in the room, alarmed by the noise I had made. I looked at him in despair, tears streaming down my face and he quickly kneeled beside me and forced me to put the frame back on the floor.

"I'm sorry," I apologised, to Andrew, to him, I did not even know anymore.

"Calm down, it's okay, I'll get you a new frame. Don't worry about that," he comforted me as he retrieved Andrew's photograph from the floor. "He's still there."

I tried to take it from him but he immediately withdrew it when he noticed the state of my hands.

"For God's sake, Freya! Look at you!" he raised his voice. They were covered with blood because of the cuts I had injured myself without realising, and with the realisation came the pain. "Come, we need to clean that," James told me as he helped me get up. He swore again when he realised I had shards in my knees too.

I was a true burden, and I felt guilty for forcing him to endure that, but he held me close, guided me to the bathroom, made me sit on the side of the bathtub and delicately started cleaning my wounds, making sure not to hurt me.

"You need to be more careful," he told me. "Look what you've done to yourself! It's unnecessary." I silently nodded as I held back a sob, letting him apply a damp cloth on my skin. I observed him, kneeling before me, focused on his task and I felt silly. I was about to be a mother, and yet I was acting like a baby. I still needed someone to take care of me.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Stop apologising. I'm worried, that's all," he made me shut up.

I looked at my hands where the cuts were bleeding again. The red liquid made me feel uneasy. I was about to tell James when a searing pain prevented me from breathing. I winced and reached for his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked me with concern.

"Yeah, yes," I reassured him as the pain lessened, letting me get my breath back. The break did not last long for immediately after, the same horrible feeling returned in my stomach, making me moan with pain. I dug my nails into James's arm, trying to control my suffering.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked in panic. "What's that?"

He brushed my hair back and forced me to look at him as I clung to his arms, digging my fingers deeper in his skin. "Fuck, Freya, you're hurting me! Tell me what to do! What can I do?!" he asked, desperate to see me in that situation, but I could not say anything. I was too busy biting my lips to prevent myself from screaming.

"Breathe, love. Breathe! Please!" he implored me. I listened to him and forced myself to inhale deeply, hoping it would help. "Good," he encouraged me to go on. "Just like that." He ran a cool hand across my cheek to try to relax my rigid features, and when I met his eyes, I could see how my reaction had scared him.

"I need to call a doctor," he said.

"No!" I stopped him. "It's okay. I know how to deal with that," I wanted to reassure him.

"What do you mean 'you know how to deal with that'?" he asked, tense. I said nothing.

"It happened before?"

"It's nothing!" I tried to avoid this conversation.

"How come 'it's nothing'! It's not _nothing_! You look like you're fucking dying in front of my eyes and it's nothing?" he shouted at me.

"I'm not dying! It's just some pain. It always goes away!" I defended myself.

"It can be serious! You should have told your doctor! I'll have to call him," he was angry at me.

"No! Please! Don't tell anyone!" I begged him. "Please, I'll be more careful, I promise! But don't tell anyone. They'll force me to leave Andrew."

His features softened as I grabbed his hand and looked at him with imploring eyes. He said nothing and finally took me in his arms and let me stay there for as long as I wanted, and it was the only answer I needed.


	27. Journey to acceptance

"What are your plans for today?" I asked her.

"Nothing special. Just rest, I guess," she told me.

I had come that morning to check on her, as I did every day. I was more than worried about her since that evening, when she had almost ripped my arm off my body to control her pain. I had tried to make her change her mind, in vain. She refused to see the doctor and assured me she felt better, but it was not enough.

"What about you?" it was her turn to ask. "Are you going to spend your day worrying about me, watching my every move?"

"At least, one of us takes it seriously," I snapped back.

"I'm fine," she sighed.

I did not want to fight anymore, and so I did not say a word. I probably avoided conflict a lot with Freya. She had quite a temper, I had seen that in Duxford, and Andrew had experienced it several times. It was hard to reason with her, even more now that she had lost her husband.

"Let me do that," I told her as I noticed she wanted to lift a heavy pan to put it in the cupboard. This time, she listened and stepped aside without arguing.

"You're unbelievable..." I sighed. "You're almost seven months pregnant and you still want to do everything on your own."

"What? I'm not gonna spend all my days in bed? I'd rather be dead," she complained.

"No, but I told you, you need to be careful!" I repeated for the hundredth time; and for the hundredth time, she grumbled with discontentment.

"I'm going to rest in the living room," she made sure I heard her. She was mad at me because she saw that as a punishment while all I was trying to do was protecting her from herself.

"While you're at it, could you bring me a cup of tea?" she asked in a playful voice before leaving the kitchen.

And so, I prepared her a cup of tea, happy that she had finally decided to listen to me. I joined her in the adjacent room with her hot drink and sat next to her.

"Careful, it's hot," I warned her as I gave her her drink.

"It's tea, it better be hot!" she made fun of my remark.

"You know what I mean," I defended myself.

"Yes Sir, I'll be careful not to burn myself Sir," she pretended to be obedient. Andrew's sense of humour had rubbed off on her.

I was about to laugh at her insolence when I heard the front door open and close. Andrew's mother appeared in the living room seconds later, to Freya's great surprise.

"Cathy, what brings you here?" she said as she got up to welcome her in an embrace.

"I wanted to talk to you sweetheart," she replied.

"Okay, come. Join us," she invited her to sit in the armchair next to us. "Would you like tea?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she declined. "Morning James," she smiled at me. I smiled back but remained silent. I knew the reason of her visit, and I knew what was going to happen.

"I went to see the doctor," Cathy started.

"What for?" Freya tensed, having a sense of what she meant.

"To know about your health, about your pregnancy. You didn't tell me anything about your last appointment."

"Because I'm fine!" she defended herself.

"No Freya. That's not what he told me. He said you must rest."

"That's what I'm doing!"

"Out of London."

"But I can rest here, I don't have to leave London for that!" she stood her ground.

"London is too stressful for you. We're leaving this afternoon," Cathy simply informed her of her decision.

"What? No, I'm not leaving! My life is here!" she got up in shock, feeling unfairly treated by her own family.

"Oh, you don't have a say here young lady! You don't want to see the red flags your body is sending you, so I'm making decisions for you. We are leaving."

Freya turned to me with fire in her eyes.

"You told her, right?" she accused me. "I told you to keep it for yourself but you couldn't, could you?"

"It's for your own good," I tried to reason with her.

"My own good? My own good?! You don't care about what I need. You betrayed me!"

"I didn't! I know your fears, I know what you're feeling, but I've made a promise to Andrew that if anything happened to him I would take care of you. And that's what I'm doing."

"You're not taking care of me... You're forcing me to leave, you're forcing me to do things I don't want to do."

"Listen, I know you're mad at me. I get it," I began to explain. "But you're putting your life and that of your baby at risk. You don't see it. Freya, you're prone to having a difficult pregnancy because of what happened to your mother. We don't want you to..."

"Don't bring my mother into this..." she warned me.

"I'm sorry but you know that's the truth!" I refused to remain silent.

"Enough the two of you!" Cathy put an end to our argument. "Freya, pack your things. We're going to Scotland."  
  
  


*****  
  
  


The landscapes were all the same as I looked through the window. The British countryside seamed dull and endless. Green, green and green, as far as the eye could see, reminding me that London was well behind me and that this train was taking me to an unknown place that I was supposed to call my home.

I had always wanted to discover Scotland, but with my husband. Because it was his home and where he wanted to go back to live with me and our family. It was our dream, but I could not make that dream come true without him. What good was there for me? How would it be less stressful to be thrown in the middle of a small town where I knew no one and would be seen as the wife of the young lad who had died in action? Well, if they had not forgotten about Andrew once he had left for war. As this myriad of questions invaded my mind, I laid my hand on my stomach, hoping the baby would not feel my fear and anxiety.

I knew James did, I could feel his eyes on me. They had not left me since the beginning of the journey. I glanced at him and he immediately gave me a smile which I ignored. I was still mad at him. He was the reason I was in this train. Childish behaviour, yes. I knew he wanted me to be safe and that he was full of good intentions, but I could not bear his constant desire to protect me because it should not have been his role. I could not accept his kindness, his protection and his help because it felt like he was replacing Andrew. Yet, I needed someone to protect me from myself and give me the affection I craved, and he was the one who knew me the best, and still, I struggled to let him help me because I refused to show any weakness. If I had to bring a new life into this cruel world, I had to be strong and thus, I had to know how to survive by myself.

*****

A white cottage at the edge of town, standing alone on a patch of grass overlooking the sea. It had something comforting about it. A family home it was, and as soon as I had stepped inside, I had felt the love and warmth that were the essence of it. The inside was as simple as the outside, but the rustic aspect of the wooden floor and furniture gave it a lot of charm. Everything was new to me, no object charged with souvenirs, no ghosts of a lost love. It felt like a breath of fresh air to be there.

They had been right from the beginning and I had refused to listen to them, as always. Being there, in a new setting, I finally felt at peace. This house would see me heal. I was scared to leave London because I was scared to leave Andrew, but I realised that wherever I would go, he would always be with me. There was no way I would ever forget him. Being where he wanted me to be made me feel like I was getting closer to him. What better place than Andrew's hometown to raise our baby? Where he had grown up, where he had become the perfect man I had loved, and still loved with all my heart. His home was now my home. Our home.

"Freya, sweetheart, come with me," Cathy brought me back to reality.

I followed her upstairs where she showed me the room where I would settle for the weeks to come. It was small but bright, and the view from the window was magnificent. The sea met the sky in a blue vastness that only boats and birds would disrupt from time to time.

"It was Andrew's bedroom," she informed me. "He would spend all his mornings looking through that window as a child, dreaming of being a bird and flying with them. One of the rare moments he would not be running around the house full of energy."

I smiled at the thought of a little blond boy absorbed in his contemplation and turned to Cathy who was putting my suitcase on the bed.

"I'll let you unpack and rest now. It was a long journey. I'll call you later for supper," she said before leaving the room.

I opened my suitcase and took out the few belongings I had brought. Andrew's portrait which was now in a brand-new frame thanks to James, our wedding photograph that I loved more than everything, all his letters that were so precious to me and his lucky coin, that he had given me the day before leaving for Dunkirk. I did not deserve it. He should have kept it with him, he needed it more than me. Maybe it could have saved him. Maybe. I twirled it between my fingers as I observed the decoration around me.

It was another aspect of him I was discovering. Drawing of animals were displayed next to pictures of planes. Who were you Andrew Collins? What did you love as a kid? I bet he had no idea he would end up fighting in a war, but life was unpredictable. At least, he had fulfilled his dream of flying. He belonged in the sky now, the place that had always attracted him. He was somewhere up there, probably looking after me. I knew he was.

I felt the baby kick as if to remind me I had things to do instead of dreaming. I placed the coin on the bedside table, hung my clothes in the wardrobe and put the suitcase away so I could lie on the bed. I stayed there for a while, thinking about him, listening to the sound of the waves crashing in the distance and the seabirds calling each other. As I stroked my belly, lost in my thoughts, I promised myself I would be better. I had to be the perfect mother for this baby.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I woke up in a much better mood the morning after. Opening my curtains to discover the beauty of nature rather than a grey building in front of my eyes was probably for something. I had not slept so well in a long time, and not that late either. It was probably the first time in months that I did not dream of Andrew dying, that I was not woken up by this recurrent nightmare of his plane crashing. Instead, he had visited me in my sleep and it had felt like he was with me. The whole thing was a bit of a blur, but I could remember that he had come back home and he was truly happy to see we were having a baby. He had spent the day with me, taking care of me, praising me, asking me to rest and gather strength to welcome our baby in this world. I had listened, and I had let him protect me, until he had to leave again. When I had asked if he would come back, he had told me not to worry, that other people would take care of me for him. It sounded very stupid, but I had the impression he knew I needed a sign, a proof he was there, around me, and to feel his presence, so strong and overwhelming, was the proof I had been waiting for. It had brightened my mood and given me hope. I knew he would visit me again.

As I got out of bed and stretched, I heard someone pound the front door. I quickly put on my dress and walked out of the bedroom to join the rest of the family, but I stopped at the top of the stairs when I heard the visitor ask for Andrew. She was a young woman, called Victoria from what I grasped, but I could not see her face from where I was. Given her enthusiastic tone, she had not been informed of Andrew's death, and her happy voice quickly turned into heart-breaking sobs when Cathy told her the bad news. Who was she to be so shaken by my husband's death? Was she close to him? I did not know her, and yet she seemed to be part of the family and it made me insecure. When I heard them move to the kitchen, I decided to join them to satisfy my curiosity.

Cathy immediately came to me when I entered the room, asking me how I felt. I vaguely answered her question as I fixed my eyes on our visitor, who was as intrigued by me as I was by her. Her soft voice did not match her tall frame and her strong features. She had arranged her thick red hair into a messy attempt of a smart hairstyle. I could tell she had tried to dress herself up to impress, but she had chosen clothes that did not suit her. And yet, she had that fierce look that would make even the most beautiful woman feel threatened.

"Hi!" she greeted me as she got up to take me in her arms. "I'm Victoria, Andrew's best friend. You must be his cousin," she told me with an unsettling confidence.

"I'm his wife," I immediately corrected her, and I noticed her expression briefly turn to surprise.

"His wife?"

"Yes, I'm Freya,"

"Oh, he didn't tell me," her voice betrayed her discomposure. "He probably didn't have time, with this war..."

"I'm sure he would have told you if he had had the opportunity," I tried to comfort her even if I did not know her.

"Do you know you're not the first person he married?"

"What do you mean?" I almost choked on my words.

"It's a funny story, but when we were kids, Andrew and I had our own wedding. Of course, it was a kid thing, but we exchanged rings made of grass and promised we would never forget one another."

"As you said, it was a kid thing," Jane came to my rescue. "You were what, ten years old? You can't really call that a wedding Victoria."

"It was to us, it was very pure," she argued. "Andrew and I have always had a very unique relationship. You know we grew up together and would see each other every single day, until he moved to London with you..." She focused her attention on me again, laying a hand on my arm as if to find support. "But even after that, nothing had changed. He would come back to Scotland and we would be inseparable again. We were so close. So close..."

She had dragged me outside, and was now standing at the edge of the patio, looking in the distance before turning her eyes to me. Why was she telling me all that? Why was she talking as if they had been a couple? I was his wife. He had told me I was his true love and now, this girl was walking into my life to tell me my relationship had been nothing compared to what she had shared with Andrew. A sparkle was burning in her eyes. She clearly enjoyed telling me her stories, and the naive girl that I was did not say a word and kept listening, even though I wanted her to stop. I wanted to tell her that her words had made me uncomfortable, but I did not find the strength. Instead, I purposely brought my hands to my belly to stroke my baby bump, insisting just enough to attract her eyes to the proof that Andrew had given me something she would never have. If it was a competition, I would win. She froze for an instant when she discovered the reason of my arrival, but pretended she had not noticed anything.

"It's this war that brought us apart," she went on. "Because he enrolled into the RAF and he did not come back after that. And he met you, I guess. I don't know where and I don't know how..."

"We were colleagues."

"I mean, I can't blame him," she wasn't listening. "You're beautiful. And you were there when he needed someone. Men will be men, and they'll try to find comfort where they can. No offense," she pretended she did not want to be mean.

What was that supposed to say? If she was trying to show me she did not like me, she could stop, she had succeeded. I felt like shit.

"It's just that I know things would have been different if this war hadn't happened. It would have been totally different. You were lucky to have him Freya."

"I'm glad that we both agree on how wonderful Andrew was. I'm sorry that I didn't know your name, it's just that he never mentioned you when talking about his life in Scotland," I reminded her that I could play her game just as well.

She blinked, cut to the quick by my words. It was obvious she was trying to make me jealous, but jealousy was her weakness, not mine. She could not find something to say, and only forced a smile, pretending my words had not had any impact on her. I knew my husband. He had never mentioned Victoria's name in our conversations and it was not something he would have hidden from me, and because of this, I knew she was lying. I knew they had no special relationship. And yet, I could not stop that weird feeling from growing into my heart. She had won.


	28. My promise to you

There I was again, standing at my favourite spot, letting the fresh breeze from the sea caress my rosy cheeks. I loved spending time at the top of the cliff, a short walk from home, just staring at the horizon and admiring the rising sun shed its warm light on a brand-new day. I would try to come every morning if the weather allowed it, and come back every evening to observe the world come to a truce. It made me feel alive, the wind in my hair, the smell of the sea, the sound of the waves. Making one with nature.

Those were precious moments that I would never miss, because it was only you and I my love. And our baby. Boy or girl? What do you think Andrew? I don't mind and I'm sure you don't either. Life will tell us. I promise I'll love this baby for the both of us and make sure that you're part of its life, one way or another. You've given me the greatest of all gifts my love, you've never abandoned me. I carry your heart with me, at all time. I bless all the memories of the moments we have shared; I used to see them as a curse, a harsh reminder of my loss. But I see now that I'm lucky to have these moments to remember. The first time we met and the way you smiled warmly at me, our talks almost every evening that I would look forward to, when I thought we were only just friends, and the looks we exchanged that told me that maybe there was more; I remember the feeling that invaded my heart that day when your fingers connected with my skin as you brushed my cheek, sending electricity down my spine, and looked at me as if I was the most beautiful flower you had laid eyes on in this field; I remember our first kiss, the joy and the pain mixed in an overwhelming feeling, finally welcoming your love but fearing for your life; I remember the fights, the tears, the embraces and reconciliations, the goodbyes and the reunions; all the little things we shared, the days and nights we spent together; the morning you asked me to marry you and the day you made me your wife; I remember every sweet word of your vows and all the compliments you've ever told me because you were my everything, the best thing that ever happened to me.

I owe all the happiness in my life to you. You've given me everything I could have hoped for and so much more. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. Our love was an evidence and it will live with me, even if you're not there anymore. Tell me, are you waiting for me somewhere, hoping that I'll join you as I'm hoping you'll come back to me? I sometimes find myself thinking it's your plane I see in the distance, appearing among the clouds, coming home, until I realise it's only a bird. I hope you don't mind if I stay here a bit longer. I know I told you all I wanted was to be with you again, but I have a duty now, I know you'll understand. One day, we will be reunited for good.

*****

"I knew I would find you here," my voice startled her.

She smiled at me, knowing her ritual was not a secret anymore.

"' _The girl who stands there_ ', that's how they call you in the village," I chuckled.

"It's either that or ' _Andy's girl_ '. I'm sure they don't even know my name," she replied.

"You didn't really make sure they would remember it. You never go to town," I let her know I was aware of everything.

"How would you know? You're never there," she felt attacked.

"Cathy told me."

I was not trying to make her feel bad, I just wanted the best for her and was scared she would isolate herself.

"I feel like a stranger among them," she tried to explain. "Either that or they look at me as if I was some freak."

"They love you. You know they do. Don't say things like that."

"It's just... I don't want to see her," she admitted in a low voice.

"Who?" I had no idea who she was talking about.

"Victoria."

Of course, Victoria. The girl from Andrew's past who wanted to keep him for herself.

"I told you she was nothing but a friend for him. A friend he lost contact with by the way," I tried to reassure her.

"I know, I know. But have you seen her walking around town mourning my husband as if she was his widow? I've tried to be nice and get to know her like you told me, but all she has done is comparing her relationship with Andrew to mine and making me understand that she loves him more than I'll ever do. She makes every conversation about her..."

She seemed to have taken a lot on her.

"She doesn't seem very easy to deal with, I agree. Why don't you tell her it makes you uncomfortable?"

"I don't want to start a new conflict. I'm fine here. I've got Cathy and Jane, and you when you visit," she smiled warmly at me. "I don't need anyone else. I won't stay long around here anyway."

"Why?"

"It's not long before I give birth, a few more weeks I believe. Look at me!" she cupped her baby bump with her hands, pretending she was huge, but she was not. She had not regained half of the weight she had lost after Andrew's death. She looked weak. As beautiful as ever, of course, but so fragile; and she always had that sad look on her face, even when she smiled.

"Cathy told me that given what happened to my mother, I should give birth in a hospital, where doctors can attend me," she went on. "Scotland was just to rest, and as much as I love it here, my life is in London. My father is there, and I miss him..."

"Yeah, it makes sense."

"I want the best for this baby," she assured me.

"I know. You're doing the right thing."

"A few months ago, I would have jumped from that cliff to put an end to my suffering and be with Andrew again," she laughed uncomfortably, sharing her dark thoughts with me. "But he wanted me to live, and he gave me a purpose, right?" she looked at me as if to find an answer to her question. "He wants me to keep fighting. So, that's what I'll do."

"You're brave. I'm sure he's proud of you," I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pull her tight against me.

"It helps to have you by my side," she smiled at me, breaking my heart. "Things have changed so quickly..." she sighed. "We're not who we were when we met, and our dreams have faded away. Do you remember what you wanted back in Duxford?" she asked me.

"Eden, I believe..." I laughed. "But as you say, things change."

"At least, she got what she wanted," she observed.

"A good husband, a baby and a big house, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "She's got her perfect life..."

"It's a good thing she did not wait for me then, because I don't even think I want to marry one day. A baby and a small cottage lost in the countryside, that's all she would have had with me," I tried to lighten the atmosphere.

She briefly chuckled, but quickly became silent again. I knew she was back to her dark thoughts.

"I'm a bad friend. I've been so jealous of her, I've stopped writing to her... I don't have the strength," she confessed.

"You're not a bad friend. I'm sure she understands," I refused to let her think things like that.

"Look at us, two lost souls fooled by a never-ending war, condemned to be alone for the rest of their lives," she joked.

"At least we have each other."

"Well, I hope you're not content with that!" she gently hit me on the chest, leaving my embrace. "When will you let someone ravish your heart, handsome? Look at you, what a waste it would be if no woman could enjoy that," she chaffed me.

"Okay. Time to stop that conversation here," I rolled my eyes in amusement.

"Oh come on, as if I gonna believe Mr. Farrier has no interest in women anymore," she protested.

"Jane sent me to ask you to go to town with her. Grocery shopping," I changed subject.

"How convenient!"

"In fact, it's not a question, it's an order. Come on, hurry up!"

And with that I invited her to walk back home, ignoring her dirty look. She was my only preoccupation for the time being, other girls could wait.

*****

Jane had taken me to a clothes store instead of the grocery shop, contrary to what had been agreed. Apparently, I had let myself go since Andrew's death and she wanted me to take care of myself again thinking it would cheer me up. She was right. Maybe thinking a bit more about my needs was a good start towards recovery and living a pretty normal life. But I had quickly given up on trying on new clothes because nothing fitted me. All the pretty dresses made me look like a whale and I just hated that. Instead, I had set my heart on accessories, the easiest choice. I was looking around when my eyes met the most gorgeous hat I had ever seen. I grabbed it and turned to Jane with excitement.

"You need to try it!" she immediately told me.

I gladly complied. I moved in front of the mirror to meet my reflection and for the first time in months, I looked decent.

"You're gorgeous," Jane complimented me as she readjusted the hat on my head.

"Do you like it?" I asked her.

"Do _you_ like it?" she returned the question.

"Yeah, I think so. I actually feel pretty."

"Pretty? You're stunning!" she corrected me.

"I'm not sure about that," I laughed.

"Shut up!" Jane rolled her eyes at my remark.

"I mean, look at the huge dark circles under my eyes, and I'm a big mess, I can't fit in normal clothes anymore," I tried to defend my point of view.

She stood behind me and took my face in her hand, forcing me to look at my reflection. "You're gorgeous. Whatever you may think. You look like a strong, fierce woman. Look at you!" For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of that strong woman she was talking about. After all, I was still standing there, even if I had wanted to give up so many times. Jane suddenly pressed her fingers on my cheeks, forcing me to pull a face and look so stupid. We both burst into laughter, our voices echoing the bell of the front door. At that moment, in Jane's arms, I felt light, as if all my problems had vanished. As if everything would be okay.

"Go ask James what he thinks," she told me.

I observed him through the window, smoking his cigarette while patiently waiting for us. His presence by my side had become a necessity, and I would count the days between each of his visits. He had surprised me in so many ways. His indifferent air and his tough attitude were just the surface of the iceberg, hiding so many qualities that he refused to share with the world. His patience, understanding and care had been of great comfort, and his tendency to always tell the truth had helped me acknowledge my wrongdoing.

"I'm sure he'll agree with me and say it's gorgeous on you," she insisted and winked at me.

I blushed at her comment, made uncomfortable by her unjustified implication.

"I don't think he's interested in fashion," I joked, pretending I had not picked what she was trying to say.

My smile quickly faded away when I noticed Victoria and one of her friends had been in the shop for a little while now. They approached us when our eyes met.

"So nice to see you Freya! How are you?" Victoria pretended to care, as always.

"Good thanks, and you?" I politely returned the question.

"Oh you know, it's still hard for me... But I guess I need time to heal," she once more made a reference to Andrew's death. I forced myself to appear nice and tried to find support in Jane, but she had shifted her attention on a purse and was not listening to the conversation.

"You're Freya Collins?" Victoria's friend asked, but before I could reply, Victoria had already spoken.

"Yes, she's Andrew's widow."

"Wife," I instantly corrected her.

"Sorry?"

"I'm his wife," I repeated.

"Well, technically, you're his widow," she tried to be smart.

"But I prefer to say I'm his wife," I insisted.

"If it makes you feel better..."

"It doesn't make me feel better, that's just the way it is. I consider myself as his wife!" I struggled to keep my cool.

"It's just a word," she sighed. "Don't be so mad!"

"I'm not, you're the one who refuse to listen to what I'm trying to tell you. I'd prefer if you don't use that word."

"And I prefer not to lie," she said with pride.

I could not understand her ill-will towards me, nor the pleasure she could have in tormenting me. I wish I could see in her what Andrew had liked, the reasons they had been best friends, but all she was showing me was her jealousy and I had had enough.

"Listen, I know you don't really like me. And I'm not trying to make you like me, but your behaviour towards me is unfair and ridiculous. You need to stop that! I don't know what you think but I didn't steal Andrew from you!" I decided to stand for myself.

"You didn't deserve him," she finally revealed her true thoughts about me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, quite shocked by her words.

"You didn't deserve to be his wife. You don't even seem to mourn him."

"Just because I'm not crying in public doesn't mean I'm not hurting!" I refused to let her bring me down. My change of tone had alerted Jane who was now trying to understand what was happening.

"Well, if you were hurting as you say, you wouldn't be here laughing like nothing had happened. I shouldn't have to tell you that you're behaving wrongly. I mean, do you even miss him?"

"You'd better watch your words," I warned her.

"You seem to have replaced Andrew rather quickly," she continued, looking at James outside. "Is it even his baby you're having?"

The sound of my hand slapping her face resonated in the shop, taking everyone by surprise, even myself. I did not want to use violence, that was not me, I did not want to do that, but she had said too much. She looked at me in shock, one hand pressed to her cheek.

"You're fucking crazy!" she yelled at me, her eyes burning with anger, but I did not move. I did not regret my gesture, she had asked for it. I was not scared of her and I refused to let her treat me the way she did. I stood strong, defying her, showing her who she was dealing with.

"You can disrespect me but don't disrespect my husband," I replied, looking at her straight in the eyes.

I saw her body tense, clenching her fists, visibly upset by my defiance.

"I dare you to punch a pregnant woman," Jane had come between us, angrily judging Victoria.

Her intervention had the right effect for Victoria quickly relaxed her hands.

"Come darling, we're leaving," Jane invited me to follow her outside, pushing Victoria out of the way.

"What a fucking bitch!" she exclaimed as the door closed behind us.

James joined us as we started walking away, visibly confused.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I've always told Andrew this girl was way too obsessed with him..." Jane ignored his question, still heated by the altercation between Victoria and I.

"Oh no, I didn't buy the hat!" I suddenly realised, gutted that Victoria had ruined my happy moment.

"Don't worry, I'll go back tomorrow for you," Jane laughed while James looked more confused than ever.


	29. You're not there

There was something I loved about the month of September. It was seen by most as the end of summer, but for me, it was the beginning of the most beautiful season, when leaves turned red and gold and the sun was still warm. The landscapes were incredibly beautiful here in Scotland, with patches of copper ferns contrasting with the green of the grass. September offered a gorgeous palette of colours and the sweetest days, and I was so glad my baby would come to the world during that period, if everything went as planned. I had counted down the days and months, trying to predict when I would meet that little person. The last time I had been with Andrew was around Christmas, meaning end of September would be it. A few more days to wait. Fear and excitement had gradually overwhelmed me, but I knew everything would be fine. We would take a train back to London in a few days and I would have my baby there, where I would get all the help I needed.

The house was surprisingly quiet on that morning, just me and my thoughts. Cathy, Jane and James had walked to town to buy the few things we needed for our journey to London, while I had started packing some belongings. These last few months in the countryside had done me so much good. It had helped me control my anxiety and gave me time to grieve my husband, try to make peace with what had happened, even if I knew I would never accept his death. I would always miss him, there was not a day I was not thinking about him, but I had to move on for our baby. I would have to be twice as strong now that I was alone to protect this life, that part of Andrew. I would protect it from every danger in this world.

Still absorbed in my thoughts, I checked the temperature of the water that I would use for the laundry. I put the lid back on and stroked my belly, still in wonder at what my body had been creating for almost nine months. Almost nine months that I had seen my husband for the last time. Nine long months since I had said goodbye to him at the train station, that I had let him go, not knowing this would be the last image I would have of him. Had I known, I would have clung to him, I would have made our kiss last forever and told him a million times how much he meant to me.

I missed him more than anything in the world, my husband. I missed his voice, his laugh and his touch. I missed hearing his steady breathing at night and feel his warm skin against mine. It occurred to me that all of it had been lost forever, and even if I had known for a while, just thinking about it would break my heart every time.

I shook the thought out of my head, refusing to let myself become sad again. Life without him would never be the same but it did not mean it was over.

I poured the hot water in the basin next to me and enjoyed the sensation of the warm steam on my face, a soft caress on my skin. I cautiously lifted the big bucket and struggled to carry it outside, for it was quite heavy for a pregnant woman, as strong as she thought she was. But I managed to do it, slowly but carefully.

Maybe not carefully enough for when I finally reached the patio, I felt a striking pain in my stomach, so strong it made me drop my load. The water splashed onto the floor while I reached for the wall to find balance, my other hand supporting my belly. It was the worst timing for this familiar pain to come back, not so strong, not that close to my term.

I forced myself to breathe and the pain faded away after a few seconds, as it used to. I felt relieved, I knew how to manage, everything would be alright. I just had to rest, pick up that basin from the floor and do my chores later, but as I bent forward to collect the metallic container, the pain came back. It felt as if someone had stabbed me in the back and I clenched my teeth to keep myself from moaning under such suffering.

I pushed myself inside, to find somewhere to sit, but I had to stop in order to catch my breath, holding myself against the kitchen cupboard, waiting for the pain to disappear. It did not though, and instead I felt it, this warm liquid running down my legs. As I lowered my eyes to my feet, I saw a scarlet drop crash onto the blue tiles of the floor, closely followed by another. I immediately brought my hand to my crotch in fear, to be met with the damp clothing of my dress, and as I raised my fingers to my eyes, I noticed they were stained with blood. Panic crept over me. Blood could not be a good sign. Either I was giving birth early or I was losing my baby.

"Hang in there! It's too soon!" I talked to my belly, as if the little being sheltered there would understand, but I was terrorised and I had no idea what I could do to stop the bleeding and the suffering.

I needed help. I had to reach the front door to ask for assistance, but the corridor suddenly seemed so long, the door so far, I could not make it. Unfortunately, I had no other choice but to go through the pain. One more deep breath, one more step forward. My whole body was aching and every movement was a torture, but I had to find someone to help me. I had to fight to save my baby. Tears were soaking my cheeks, as if my body was trying to release some pressure, as if it was ready to blow up under such pain. I was so scared to lose my baby, I was just hoping James and the girls would be back soon. They should have been there already.

I was about to reach the door when an unbearable pain forced me to stop. My legs could not carry me any further and I fell to my knees as a cry of agony left my throat. My beautiful beige dress was now red with my blood. My shaky hands were covered with that bad omen that I could not ignore, and I started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Not now," I pleaded to the sky. After all I had been through, after all these months caring for this new life, I could not lose my baby. It could not be taken away from me.

I tried to wipe away the tears that were blinding me but they kept coming, expression of my desperation. I should have been more careful. I should have thought more about my mother and what had happened to her.

The door finally opened after several minutes that felt like hours and Cathy's voice was heard, the sound of relief. I was not alone anymore.

"James, go fetch the doctor," was the first thing she said when she laid eyes on me.

*****

I had done my best to be as quick as possible, running through the streets as fast as I could, Freya's frightened look stuck in my head. I knew she was in danger and that time was of the essence to save her. I had forced my legs to keep moving, I had ignored my difficulty to breathe, and I had forgotten any rule of politeness when it came to pushing people out of my way. Thankfully, I had found the doctor at his practice and we were back at the cottage a few minutes later only, with his car. I rushed inside to be met only by Freya's blood on the floor and her heart wrenching screams echoing through the corridor. I just had to follow the sound of her voice to know where she had been moved. "Come, this way," I invited the man to follow me at the back.

Her eyes immediately found me when I entered the room, silently imploring me to put an end to her torture. I rushed to her side to try to reassure her, feeling like it was the only way I could help her. I sat on the bed next to her and let her rest her head against me as I removed the hair that was stuck to her forehead in a gentle stroke, trying to soothe her. Her face was dripping with sweat, she was clearly exhausted. I was deeply worried about her state. The scene I had in front of my eyes would have frightened most people, like a reminiscence of what I had seen of the war. Her light dress was soaked with blood, just like the bed sheets around her. If one did not know she was pregnant, they could have thought she was dying, and I was scared it could be the case too. I could not let her know I was afraid, because she was already terrified with what was happening to her. I had to be there for her. Yet, it proved difficult to stay strong when I met her teary eyes, when she grabbed my hand and implored me to help her while I proved to be useless.

A new contraction besieged her, her body tensed and her nails sank deep into my skin before she let out another harrowing scream. I tried to find reassurance in Cathy's eyes for she would know how to assess the situation, but she looked as defeated as me.

"Freya, we need to have you give birth now," the doctor told her.

"Please, make it stop," she cried.

"I'll need you to be brave, okay? Take a deep breath and push when I tell you to do so."

"I can't do it," she sobbed. "I can't. Just get rid of it, please."

The despair in her voice said a lot about the pain she had to handle. I hated to see her like that. I wished I could take the pain for her so she could rest, but all I could do was stand passively at her side while she struggled in front of me.

"Okay love, look at me," I said as I took her face in my hands. "You can do this. You'll bring this baby to the world and be an amazing mother."

"I don't want it anymore. I don't care. I just want it to stop," she declared, taking me off guard. She did not know what she was saying, it could not be otherwise. She would not let her baby down.

"Look at me, breathe with me. I'm here with you, alright? We're going to do this together."

She nodded, slightly appeased by my words, and inhaled deeply when I told her to, as instructed by the doctor. She did her best to end her suffering, but it seemed life would never make it easy for her. She had to fight against the pain, use all her strength to win this battle.

We all looked at her with concern, feeling her distress and praying for it to end as soon as possible, for the sight of her face distorted with pain was heart-rending. It seemed like she was losing a part of her soul with every new effort she had to make. Every new contraction made her weaker. Her frail body would not take it much longer.

"I want Andrew," she cried, about to give up. "Where is he?" The suffering had made her lose her mind, but I had no idea what to tell her.

"James, go get him! I need him!" she ordered me.

"I can't," I told her as I stroked the top of her head. And to see her face torn with despair and incomprehension broke my heart.

"Where is he?" she let more tears stream down her face. Before I could say anything, a new contraction had forced her to focus her attention elsewhere, to give the final push to finally have her baby. She was so close to deliverance.

Her torture having come to an end, she collapsed on me, tremors running through her exhausted body.

"I did it," she said with a faint smile.

"You did it," I replied, proud of her.

When she slowly closed her eyes, I noticed that the sparkle that used to shine there had died out, and as I felt her body loosen in my arms, I realised she had not noticed that her baby was not crying. In that moment more than ever, the world felt terribly empty.

*****

She had passed out in my arms so quickly. She had fought until the end to bring her baby to the world. She had done what she had to do, but it had cost her so much. She had sacrificed herself. I had remained with her in my arms, completely helpless, while the doctor was all focused on saving her baby. But who would be saving her? I had shaken her to try to wake her up, to prevent her from sleeping and never open her eyes again, but she would not respond. Desperate, I had held her pale body closer to mine to try to keep her warm, knowing we would need a miracle to save her. Two lives at risk and only one to be saved at a time. Her baby's life had been the priority, but she had always been my priority so, I had kept her hand in mine. I had never left her side.

I was woken up by what seemed to be baby cries, but everything was silent when I opened my eyes and her bed was empty, her cold fingers were not in my hand anymore. Had I become insane? I quickly stood up, any drowsiness having left my body, trying to figure out where she could be. The light was dim outside, giving no clue of what part of the day it was. I had lost track of time staying at her bedside for days.

I moved to the corridor and walked slowly, listening to any noise, determined to find her. I stopped when I heard her voice escape from the crack of a closed door. I carefully pushed it open and hold my breath when I caught sight of her.

She was standing in front of the window, her baby in her arms, as if nothing had happened, completely embracing her motherhood. The direct light from outside made her stand out, divine figure in a dark room, and I felt like witnessing something out of this world.

"I'm your mummy my little angel," she whispered to her new-born, the flesh of her flesh. "My perfect little boy. I'm sorry I let you down. I'll never leave you alone again, I promise."

She chuckled when her son gurgled in response to her promise.

"Mummy's there and she loves you so very much," she added, gently stroking his rosy cheeks from the tip of her finger.

I quietly walked in, feeling like an intruder but driven by the need to check on her for she was still fragile.

"Hey you," I let her know I was there. She turned to face me, a genuine smile enlightening her face. Her baby, who could have been the death of her, proved to be her saviour. The spark was back in her eyes, more flamboyant than ever.

"Can I see the little fella?" I asked as I stopped at her side.

"Of course," she answered, her eyes not leaving the angelic face of her son. She was in love with the tiny creature that was wriggling in her arms.

"Meet Tomas Andrew James Collins," she told me as she raised her eyes to me to observe my reaction, and she was not disappointed for the mention of my name left me speechless. I was not expecting such proof of affection from her.

"James?" I repeated, completely incredulous.

"Yes," she confirmed. "His godfather's name."

My eyes widened at this new surprise, not sure if I had heard correctly.

"Please say yes!" she suddenly worried. "I can't think of someone better for my child."

"I would be honoured, Frey," I immediately let her know.

"I might change my mind if you keep calling me that," she faked outrage.

"You love it!" I defended myself. "Frey," I teased her, taking her in my arms.

"Okay, maybe a bit. But just because it's you," she elbowed me and laughed heartily.

The smile on her face was the most beautiful thing I had seen, the sign of relief, the light at the end of a long tunnel. She would finally be happy and her laugh was her revenge on life. As quickly as it had appeared, her smile gave place to discomfort and I felt her slip in my arms. I caught her, frightened by her sudden weakness.

"Come on, sit down, there," I guided her to the nearest armchair and made sure she was fine.

She smiled at me; she was just a bit tired, but I would never forget the situation in which she had been a few days ago and the fear I had felt, even if all of that was now over.

"Do you want to hold him?" she asked in all seriousness. I nodded, honoured by her offer, and carefully crouched in front of her to let her place her son in my arms.

I froze when she removed her hands and fully entrusted Tomas to me, not knowing how to act. I felt very clumsy holding this fragile little man and I was afraid I would harm him if I moved, even slightly. He was so tiny, my hands being twice the size of his head, and it was scary to know she had given me the responsibility to look after him. Would I be able to protect him? I was not made for that, I did not know how to do that. As I tried to figure out my new role, his blue eyes met mine, seas of innocence and pureness, and an unknown feeling suddenly overwhelmed me. I had seen the exact portrait of my lost friend, right there, in his beautiful orbs. It was as if Andrew was looking at me, and when I turned to Freya, I knew I did not need to say a word for the look in her eyes told me she had seen it too.


	30. All I've got

Ever since Tomas had come into my life, light had shone in my heart again. What had been a never-ending suffering since I had lost Andrew, had turned into a promising new journey. Learning to be a mother was a discovery of every instant. Tomas had proved to be a very calm baby. His first month into the world had been wonderful. He was all I cared for, my everything, my treasure. I would never leave his side, too afraid to miss something, too afraid to be a bad mother if I did. But everything went well. Tomas was healthy, energetic and curious. Of course, he would cry from time to time and wake me up at night, like every other baby, but seeing his little face was a joy to my life, and having him by my side was a true blessing. I might have lost the love of my life, but I had been blessed with the purest gift, the most beautiful proof that this lost love had once been a reality: our son.

Being a mother came naturally, day after day. Fear of doing something wrong had gradually given place to the acceptance of motherhood being a constant learning. I had to trust myself for once, and agree to ask for help when I did not know what to do. Cathy and Jane had been amazing teachers. Thanks to them, my baby had received all the care he needed and become stronger with each day, easing my worry about his health.

Nothing came to darken those first months together, up until his sixth month, which coincided with the anniversary of Andrew's death... I had made the decision to stay in Scotland, knowing I would have been unable to bear his absence, to face the memories I had left behind me, in our flat. I would have to go back at some point, I knew it, but I was not ready yet.

Time had flown since the discovery of my pregnancy, and since Tomas's birth. Every new month of him by my side was also a reminder that his father had left this world too soon. A year before already. A year of not counting down the days until his return but adding them up since his disappearance; a year of crying to sleep every night and waking up with a broken heart at the realisation that it was not a bad dream; a year of not expecting any news from him and not writing any letter to describe my everyday life. Our story had come to an end that awful day of March, but I had to keep going and write my own story, without him.

Things had proved to be harder, all the more that with every month, Tomas looked more and more like his father, and Cathy kept reminding me of it. His light-blue eyes, his blond hair, his smile and even his nature, according to her. Tomas was an easy, happy child, like Andrew. I was so thankful for such likeness, for it allowed me to still have a bit of Andrew in my life, through my son, even though a simple smile or look from him could bring me on the verge of crying when I missed my husband the most.

But I had people who cared for me and a family to change my mind. Like that early spring afternoon, when the air was too chill and the sun too shy to spend the day outside. James had joined us for a few days, always keen to leave London where he was now based. He was an amazing godfather for Tomas, very protective and helpful, which allowed me to rest sometimes. It was something much needed, for my recovery after Tomas's birth had been long. I would agree to rest, but I would never go too far. Not because I did not trust James, but because I constantly felt the need to be around my baby. Mother instinct, probably. That thing was real.

And so, I had settled in the armchair next to the window, in the living room, observing James play with Tomas. There was something very sweet at seeing them together. James would totally transform in my son's presence, letting go of his armour, allowing himself to feel something, to give love and receive in exchange. That tall, broad man did not have to be strong when with us, he did not have to hide behind his uniform. Playing with Tomas was his favourite thing to do. He had sat with him in front of the fireplace and let him wriggle on the carpet while he waved a figurine of a lion in front of his face, triggering a smile from him. He had built a set of wooden animals as a birth present for my Tommy, bringing new species every time he would come visit us, so much that we now had the full Noah's Ark at home. I knew Tomas would love them when growing up, he already did, given how absorbed he was in the contemplation of this yellow lion moving and roaring in front of him. James had put so much heart in this gift, I had no doubt he loved my son more than anything in the world.

"I think this one is his favourite," he commented as he looked at me with a bright smile. "That's a little lion you've there!" he added and started tickling Tomas's belly, causing him to giggle with pleasure.

"You're turning him into a little lion!" I observed.

My son's joy was infectious and gave me hope that one day, everything would be alright for us. If things remained like that, Tomas, James and I, then it could be true.

"When do you think you'll come back to London?" he shifted his attention back to me.

"Soon I guess," I thoughtfully replied.

"Nice. Cause I miss the little guy when I go back there. I wish I could spend all my days with him," he let me know, observing Tomas playing with his index finger.

"When I come back, you can change his diaper as much as you want my dear," I joked.

"I'm only his godfather," he tried to find an excuse. "I don't want you to feel like I'm overstepping the boundaries of my role."

"Oh don't worry, you won't erase the special bond I've with my son. Like I won't ask you to breastfeed him. You would make him unhappy anyway," I giggled.

"Yeah, I'm lacking the breast for that."

"But I could definitely use some help for the diapers," I teased him.

"Well, I guess I've seen worse," he winked at me.

"Oh, hey you! Where are you going like that little man?" he turned his attention to Tomas who had rolled on his front and was crawling away. "Maybe you're feeding him too much, he already wants to go on an adventure. Next month he will be walking."

He caught him and lifted him in the air to face him.

"You'll be a strong man, little Collins," he told him, getting another smile from my son, which made my heart melt.

"Will you become an airman like your father? Fly around in the sky like it's your kingdom? I can teach you, as soon as you stand on your two legs."

"Oh no!" I stopped him.

"Don't listen to your mother," he whispered in Tomas's ear as if he could understand. "I'll teach you, it will be our little secret."

I got up and took Tomas from his arms as I pulled my tongue to let him know that I would not let him joke about that.

"Uncle James is saying silly, silly things. The sky is a dangerous place. There is no more space for another Collins up there," I brought the conversation to an end.

James did not say a thing, he knew this was a sensitive topic. Instead, he silently got up and gathered the toys that had been scattered in the room. I observed him while bouncing Tomas in my arms, and I thought that James Farrier would be the closest to a father for my child. He would set a good example and guide Tomas through what he knew best. He knew his father in a way that I did not, and I wanted him to share this side of Andrew with him. I felt at peace knowing he was there for him.

My attention came back to Tomas when I heard him whimper. His cute whimpering quickly turned into loud crying and his cheeks reddened with the effort. I did not need much time to understand what was bothering him.

"I think someone doesn't like the way he smells," I joked, amused by the situation and the look Tomas was giving me.

"Maybe it's time you teach me how to change a diaper," James immediately offered, proving me that I could completely rely on him.

*****

_I miss you every day of my life and I wish I had told you how much I love you that day, on platform number 2 of South Kensington's train station. I should have told you that you were my sun, my stars, my whole universe. But now, without you, my life is a complete dark night, and I can't wait for my sun to rise and shine again._

*****

Freya had been transformed by her role as a mother, to my greatest relief. No need to worry about her anymore, she had the best reason to stay alive now. No need to worry about Tomas either, for she was always looking after him, protecting him from everything, like a true mother hen. Who could blame her given what she had been through? She had lost too much to take the risk to lose again. Her son was all that remained of her husband in her life. At least, she had agreed to let her family and I help her, she had let us be a part of her boy's life. It was an honour to be his godfather and to see him grow and change month after month. And to spend as much time with Freya, to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, and to observe her open up like a flower after a storm. The woman I had in front of my eyes was a new woman. If someone had told me that the vision of her playing with her son at the beach would be all I needed to be happy, I would not have believed them; but there I was, sitting on a rock, watching her hold Tomas's hands, helping him stand up, and letting him enjoy the fresh water of the sea on his bare feet. I could have observed them for hours, undisturbed, but Jane had decided otherwise. She had just joined me and sat by my side. She remained silent at first and closed her eyes, turning her face towards the sun to enjoy its warmth.

"Do you have a special someone in London, James?" she finally decided to ask after several minutes.

"I fear not," I simply answered.

"That's what I thought. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here all the time," she giggled and hurt my feelings a little. "Don't you want someone in your life though?"

"I do. I think I do. But now is not the right time," I admitted, partly lost in my thoughts, my eyes automatically going back to Freya in the distance.

Jane nodded and followed my gaze.

"She'll eventually let someone else in her life," she said.

"Who?" I asked, taken aback.

"Freya, you know."

I was about to contest her innuendo when she stopped me.

"Don't try to tell me I'm wrong. I'm not."

I wanted to defend myself though. Tell her it was not what she thought it was, that the way I cared for her was different, but would she have believed me anyway? Would I have even managed to convince myself of the way I felt?

"It's the way you look at her," she explained. "Or the way you talk to her. I can see it, I know those things."

"I'm just doing my duty here, keeping my promise to Andrew, you know. Nothing more," I justified myself.

"Of course! But who could blame you if in the course of events, you had started feeling more than just compassion for her?" she insisted.

"There is nothing more than what I'm allowed to feel. It will never be like that."

She shrugged. She did not believe me.

"All I say, as Andy's sister, is that you're allowed to feel that way. You're allowed to love her. He wouldn't blame you. In fact, I think he would be glad to know that you're there for her," she gave me a knowing look.

"It's only been a year and a half since he left us. I'm not trying to replace him, alright?" I replied coldly.

"Alright Mr Grumpy, I'm just trying to help."

"I appreciate it, but I don't need help..." I smiled politely. "Can we stop talking about that, please," I added when I saw Freya coming our way.

Jane said nothing, and the satisfied smile on her face did not tell me if I could trust her to keep this conversation between us. I tried to meet her eyes to send her a silent warning, but she purposely avoided me.

"What are you talking about?" Freya asked in all innocence when she reached us.

"Not much..." I started, but I got cut off by Jane.

"James's love life," she bluntly said.

"Oh, interesting!" Freya expressed too much enthusiasm. I forced myself to look detached and sighed.

"I was just giving him advice," Jane went on.

"As if James Farrier needed advice," Freya laughed, turning her sparkly eyes to me.

I kept silent, it was my best mechanism of defence.

"He thinks he can't get the girl he wants."

"I don't believe that one second!" she laughed. "In any case, she's a lucky one. Too bad for us my Tommy, we won't be able to keep uncle James to us forever," she added with an honest smile that made my heart clench.

*****

_The thing is, when you have everything you need to be happy, you tend to forget that it can be taken away from you in a flash. We knew war could put an end to our bliss, but we thought we could be stronger, we believed in our luck. But luck doesn't last forever._

*****

When Tomas had mastered the art of walking by himself, I had decided it was time to move back to London, to allow my father and Arthur to spend more time with their grandson. After all, the allied forces had invaded France a few months before, making progress every week to bring us closer to peace. At least, that's what they said in the newspapers and on the radio. Maybe this conflict would finally come to an end. Maybe my son would live in a world where people were not forced to kill each other because of decisions that were made for them. Maybe he would remember his father as a hero who fought for the ones he loved, for him.

Stepping in our flat after such a long time away had been a hardship, but one I had to overcome in order to give a better life to my son. I had forbidden anyone to come with me, said I needed to be alone.

I had turned the key in the lock with a shaky hand, caught by apprehension, not knowing if I would be able to hold myself together.

Walking through the door, I had put Tomas down and let him wander freely. I was back in our world, a world I had fled but that I had never forgotten. I had been overwhelmed with so many feelings, taking everything in, accepting each sensation, letting my emotions speak. I had realised I was not scared to feel something anymore.

Nothing had changed during my absence and I had felt relieved. I did not want our past to be erased. I had approached his jacket which was still hung on the coat rack, and I had taken one of its sleeves in my hand. The feeling of the soft fabric against my skin had kindled memories I had stored deep inside of me. Memories of the day he had invited me to meet his family for the first time. He had let me cling to his arm and fiddle with the fabric of his jacket when stress had seized me as we had approached his house. In an attempt to smell his perfume again, I had pressed the precious object to my nose, but it was gone. It had been too long.

I had to reclaim this place and all its memories in order to create new ones. I had let my fingers trace the edge of the table in the lobby while observing the photograph that Andrew had sent me in his last letter, that I had left there, and I had suddenly felt tears forming in my eyes. My gaze had come to rest on the pack of cigarettes he had left behind him and I had realised that I should have tried to understand more what he had been going through. But it was too late.

I had carefully taken one of the cigarettes out to place it between my lips, fumbled in the trinket bowl to find old matches and lit it. As I had let the smoke out, I had felt like the weight on my heart had finally lightened. I had followed the smoke wreaths with my eyes as they vanished in the air, with the sensation that this moment was the closest to my husband I had been for months. I had finally accepted to remember him fully instead of avoiding every little detail that reminded me of his absence. I had him in my heart and in my mind, forever, and so I had closed my eyes and embraced this feeling, until a tug on my skirt had brought me back to reality. Someone required my full attention.

-

I had settled Tomas in our bed so I would not have to face the empty space at my left, where Andrew used to sleep. The day was coming to an end and the sun had set fire to the sky, shedding a warm light in the room, adorning Tomas's skin with an incandescent glow. I was observing the wonder I had created, we had created, Andrew and I, and it was as if time had stopped to let me enjoy the presence of my son, my mini Andrew. I tenderly stroke his cheek to encourage him to close his sleepy eyes. My most precious thing, my baby, my reason to be. I would see him grow up where his story had begun, where the love of his parents had blossomed and radiated joy. I would see him become a man, like his father. But he was still a baby for now. A one-year-old baby, but a baby that needed to be taken care of. I admired his rested features: his plump cheek, his little nose, his pink lips and his long eyelashes. He was like a baby doll, my very own precious doll. And I naturally started humming a lullaby to soothe him and let him know I had not left his side, but this time, it was one I had never sung to him before.

_"Stay with me, stay in my arms. Here it's safe, here you're free. Here's where I love you, where I'll always be. Planes are birds and nobody dies. Please stay with me, stay in my arms. Forget the world, forget the bad. Here it's safe, you're with me. It's only love, just you and me."_

I kept singing until I was sure he was soundly asleep, his little stomach rising steadily with every breath. I ran my fingers through his blond locks before gently taking his cherished new toy from his hand, which had been Andrew's favourite toy before him. A wooden plane that he had preciously kept for years, and that I had wanted to share with his son. How could I have resisted the urge to put this plane in the hands of Tomas? I had dreamed of that scene so many times; I had imagined my husband sharing his old toys with his child and play with him. Reality had been different, but it had warmed my heart nonetheless.

I observed the plane for a moment before putting it away, and I got up to approach the window. The sky had darkened and the stars were out, easily identifiable with the absence of street lights during the blackout. The white crescent of the moon was shyly shining above the roof of the house in the distance, partly hiding behind chimneys.

It had connected us the whole time we were apart. When I missed him at night, I would sit at the window and observe the moon, knowing he could see it too. We could see the same things in the sky and it always comforted me to have this in common. I could not help but hope, at the time, that he was observing it too, standing next to the window of his dormitory. I could feel his presence, every time.

But things were not the same anymore, and the light of the moon, which used to soothe me, had turned bleak and cold. And yet, I was still thinking about him when observing it, and I wondered if he could see it too, from wherever he was now. Maybe he was the one keeping an eye on me now.

Tired by the emotional charge of the day, I felt tears sting my eyes. I suddenly felt silly looking at the moon as if it had anything to do with Andrew, and so I drew the curtain to hide it and walked away. I had to move on.

*****

_I never go to bed without looking at the moon first. Wherever I am, I know we still have this link between us and it gives me hope. Hope that one day we will sit together again and talk about life and how the moon has always been there for us._

_Please, tell me you haven't lost hope._

_Tell me you know I'll come back to you._


	31. Return to life

"Good morning," I greeted James with a hug.

"You're ready to go?" he asked me, looking at the basket I had left in the entrance.

"Yeah, let me get Tomas," I replied as I invited him to follow me inside.

"Tommy, baby, it's time to go," I called my son who was still playing in his room.

One minute later, I was back in the lobby, holding him in my arms, ready to leave for the park.

I had wanted to have a picnic to enjoy the nice weather we had had lately in London, and Hyde Park, which was close to my place, was ideal for that purpose. We had found the perfect spot under a tree and close to a pond, so Tomas could observe the ducks and other birds that lived there. My little boy was amazed by every new discovery he did and it was refreshing to see the world through his eyes.

James had brought a ball and presented it to Tomas whose face lit up at the idea to play with it. My friend took a few steps back and crouched down to gently throw the ball to my son. I observed them as I laid a blanket on the grass. Tomas, still a bit clumsy, was trying to imitate James, but the ball would never reach its target, ending its course only inches in front of him. However, James kept encouraging him and praising him, and I loved that. And so, Tomas kept trying and laughing, and it made me the happiest mother. I could have continued unwrapping the food I had cooked for the picnic, made sure everything was ready for when Joseph and his girlfriend would join us, but I wanted to be a part of that moment too, so I joined them instead. Tomas greeted me with the purest smile one could see, and immediately offered me the ball he was holding in his hands.

"Is it mama's turn to play?" I asked him as I accepted his gift. "Let's throw the ball to uncle James. Can you help me baby?"

He nodded with excitement, waiting for my instructions. I gently guided him to stand before me, between my legs, and I placed the ball in his hands, my own hands holding his, and I kissed his soft cheek because I could not resist it.

"Are you ready? One! Two!" and at three, I threw the ball in the air. James moved forward to catch it and pretended to be impressed by what had just happened.

"Wow! Look how far it went?! You're so strong little man!" he complimented him. "Do you think I can do the same?"

"Oh, let's catch the ball now!" I told Tomas who squealed with joy, clapping his hands with happiness.

But we missed the ball, and it bounced on my feet, escaping my reach and rolling down the slope, towards the pond. I left Tomas to chase it, hoping I would catch it before it ended its course in the water, but it finally stopped when it reached the feet of an elderly woman. I hurried to retrieve it so she did not have to bend forward, and I apologised.

"It's alright sweetheart," she smiled warmly at me. I smiled back and was about to go back to Tomas and James when she spoke again.

"You've such a beautiful family, my dear. Your child seems to have a great, caring dad," she observed as she looked at Tomas running towards James, who had his arms wide open to welcome him in an embrace. As he wrapped his arms around him, my heart filled with sadness. The world did not know about Andrew anymore. Even his own son was not conscious he was missing a father he would never know, because he had all the attention he needed. But it was my job to make sure Andrew's memory would live on, and I had failed miserably. I had not been careful enough, I had not watched my behaviour and I had let people think James was my husband, that he had always been there. How could I blame that woman? I also had the illusion that we formed a family, an atypical one, but a family nonetheless. Yet, her words made me suddenly realise that maybe I had lost myself in my happiness, maybe I had let James replace Andrew in my life, and of that, I was guilty.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


And every night it was the same thing, I could not go to bed, because when everything was silent in the shack, I was left with my thoughts and I hated that, because they all brought me to the same person.

"Hey! The Scot! Stop worrying about her," a voice in the dark interrupted me.

"I'm not," I lied.

"Yeah, yeah... Go to bed, come on man. She's fine and waiting for you," my friend insisted.

After gazing one last time at the moon, I got up and left the window, reluctantly heading towards my bed, knowing that I would not be able to sleep.

"Or she's fucking your best friend..." another voice added on a playful tone.

"Fuck you!" I replied coldly, not amused by his insinuation.

"What man, I'm just speaking sense here. You've been away for what? A year and a half? More? Don't you think she needed someone to take care of her? The best friends, they are always willing to help," he commented.

"He's dead," I simply replied as I hauled myself in my bed which was hard as rock.

"Well, she's fucking your brother then," he went on.

"I don't have a brother," I sighed, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling.

"Your neighbour then."

"Can you shut up for God's sake?!" I lost my temper. "She's not like that!"

"They all are, I know it for a fact," he didn't let go of his belief.

"Well, maybe your girl fucked the neighbour because you're a fucking asshole Bernard. Maybe," I put an end to his rambling, triggering laughs from the rest of my comrades.

"The Scot scores a point here man," Derek added before everything became silent again.

Sharing this limited space with the other guys was not always easy, for we did not all share the same vision of life, even considering the situation we were in. But it was a detail. We were all RAF, and so we stuck together. We all had similar stories to tell. We had all left on a mission one day and never come back home. We had all left people behind. But I was the only one who could have avoided ending up in this camp, who had been stupid enough to take unnecessary risks. I would never forgive myself ... but at least I was alive.

I did not know for how long I had been trapped here, I had lost track of time, but I knew it was too long because my wife's face was now a blurry memory in my mind. I felt like she was slipping away from me and I hated the idea of it. And I despised the German soldier who had taken her photographs away from me, too happy to piss me off and show them to his friends with lustful comments. I did not understand their language, but I understood their gestures... The worst was I could not do anything because they were in power. They knew they could humiliate me by humiliating her in front of my eyes.

Yet, I was alive. And I still had hope that one day, I would reunite with her. It was that hope that helped me go through the day, and survive the night. I dreaded night time because it was when my weakness took over. As much as I tried to delay the moment I would fall asleep, I knew I would have the same nightmare again and wake up bathed in sweat, even during the coldest nights of winter, because that nightmare was one I had lived.

Thus, like every night, I fought to stay awake, trying to focus my attention on something else in order to clear my mind, while my mates started snoring around me. I felt like a hen locked up in a coop. I was no better, trapped in that small space. From my bunk bed, I just had to extend my arm to touch the boards above my head, and I could feel the cold air through the cracks. I would run my finger on the surface, feeling the grain of the wood, thinking about how, months ago, or even years, it was her I was observing in our bed, and it was her features I was tracing from my fingertip. And I would fight to see her in my mind, I would try my best to see her face, but when I closed my eyes, it was only images from the same day that were flashing behind my eyelids, and I could not erase them.

I had faced death that day, a German plane coming out of nowhere, firing at me and reaching its target. I would never forget the searing pain in my shoulder that almost made me blackout, nor my plane diving towards the ground. No time to think. Unfasten your harness, open the canopy, leave your plane, release your parachute. All in a matter of seconds. I had always wondered how I would react in such situation, if I would be able to stay focus and do the right things to survive. The truth was that everything I did that day, I did it automatically. All I could think about was my wife waiting for me at home.

I had despised myself when I had touched the ground and realised I was left to my own devices, in a country I didn't know, where the enemy was everywhere. The pain of my wound had been intensified by the guilt of abandoning my wife and knowing perfectly well I could not do anything to go back in time to change what I had done. Everything around me had appeared as hostile, but I had to find a place to hide, because it was clear that the Germans would look for the pilot whose Spitfire had crashed in the area. How I had managed to fall through the cracks remained a mystery, but with the night finally there, I had decided to leave my hiding place to find somewhere I would be able to get food, ignoring the pain and gritting my teeth to keep my suffering to myself. I had spent hours struggling in the dark, fighting the rain, fearing every noise and feeling my strength leave me as my wound kept bleeding, until I had finally reached an isolated farm and passed out in the barn.

A young girl had found me in the morning. She had probably thought me dead at first. She had called her father, who had helped me to his house, where his wife had cleaned my wound.

"English?" was the only question he had been able to formulate in my language, but it was all he needed to know. My bad notions of French had not been of great help. I had told them my name, and they had given me theirs. Eyes were a universal language and they had shown me I could trust them. They took care of me for a while until my strength got back and my wound started to heal. Once the fever had disappeared and my thoughts become clear again, I had let them know I needed to go back to England.

I had written a letter to her first, to let her know I was alive and needed help. It didn't take long, but explaining to that French woman what she was supposed to do with it had proven to be harder. How could you explain something that was perfectly clear in your mind with the few words of French you had learnt at school years before? I had uttered a mix of both languages and made sure to show her my wedding ring when I had talked about my wife, to erase any doubt. I had felt relieved when she had nodded in agreement, but for a very short period of time for the noise of engines in the distance had made her run to the window. When she had turned to me with a frightened look on her face, I had understood.

"Les Allemands ! Vous devez vous cacher !" she had pushed me towards the back door.

Before she could close the door on me, I had pressed the letter in her hands, imploring her to help me.

"Pour ma femme. S'il te plaît, promise me !"

And then I was gone.

And if I was lucky, I would wake up at that moment. But most of the time, the nightmare would go on, till the end.

I had known the moment we had heard them come that they would catch me, and they did. I had not the slightest chance to escape them, so when they found me, I did not try to fight, I did not want to be shot. I raised my hands to the sky as a sour taste filled my mouth, physical expression of my distress. The feeling of the gun pressed against my back to force me to move forward had not left me since that day. The vision of the family held at gunpoint in front of their house because of me, and the frightened look of the girl were haunting me. I had looked away, pretending I had never seen them, pretending I had never shared anything with them, and I had forced myself to stand fierce when my worst nightmare was happening to me. I had no idea if the gunshot and the terrified scream I heard just after really happened or if it was a construction of my mind, but in my nightmare, I did not look back. I pretended I had heard nothing. But I could still hear her scream after I woke up.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I did not want to go to the party if it was to pretend I was carefree and happy, I was not. But James had reminded me that it would please Eden to see me, and Jane had insisted that it would do me some good to change my mind for a night. I had yielded. I had agreed to entrust Tomas to his grandmother, not without feeling the lack of him as soon as I had stepped outside the house. They were right, this party was the opportunity for me to start living for myself, as a woman, and not through my son, and yet, I could not get rid of the feeling that I was doing something wrong.

Eden's house was impressive, and what was even more impressive was that it was crammed with Londoners. James and I had to slalom between the many groups of people occupying the lobby to finally reach the living room, where a loud music was being played. Some guests were dancing, other chatting, drinking or playing games, and I instantly felt out of place.

"She wasn't kidding when she said the whole of London would be there," James observed, completely stunned by the number of people present that night.

"What are we doing here?" I joked.

"Being good friends," he reminded me. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Yes, please," I replied immediately. "It would help actually."

"Okay, be right back!" he let me know before leaving the room.

I secretly hoped that he would not let me all alone for too long as I scanned the room full of unknown faces, but my eyes quickly dropped to my feet when I noticed a group of men looking at me and nodding in my direction. I focused my attention on the green velvet of my dress, nervously rubbing my fingers against the fabric, and I regretted my decision to make myself pretty for the occasion, for I had no desire to attract their eyes. Knowing my reaction could be interpreted as an encouraging sign, I turned my back to them and searched for a familiar face, but Eden's friends were not my friends, I was not from their world, and they noticed it.

"Hey Miss! You're lost?" one man asked me as I walked past him and his group of males.

"No," I quickly denied. "I'm just waiting for my friend..."

"We can keep you company, don't worry," he insisted, exchanging a funny look with his friends.

I ignored him and focused my attention on my wedding ring, shifting it around my finger, as I often did when I felt I was losing control of the situation. I was at a great party, surrounded by interesting people that I should get to know, and yet, the only face I wanted to see among the crowd was now a blurred memory, the only person I wanted by my side was gone forever.

"Here you go!" James almost startled me. He handed me a glass that I accepted as a deliverance. "All I could find was whisky, I hope you don't mind."

"Don't worry, I could drink anything right now," I laughed before swallowing a good amount of my drink.

"Isn't it weird for me to be here, given that Eden is now happily married with someone else?" he asked, a roguish smile on his lips.

"Well, she invited you. And it's not like something really happened between the two of you..." I observed, causing James to look away and clear his throat.

"Wait... Did you?" I processed the information. "Oh my God! Did you do what I think you did?!" I looked at him in stupefaction.

He simply laughed, amused by my reaction.

"What? Who do you think she was seeing when you spent all your time with Andrew?" he stated the obvious.

"But we were getting to know each other while you were..." I gestured to finish my sentence.

"Getting to know each other in a different way," he laughed.

"She didn't tell me anything!" I protested.

"You were focused on something else at the time. Or should I say someone," he teased me.

"That's not a good excuse... I can't believe you two were sneaky like that," I shook my head with amusement. "You really are a ladies' man, aren't you?"

He smiled at my remark and did not deny it. He had the capacity to change my mind when I needed it the most, and that night he enabled me to enjoy the present moment in his company without feeling guilty. He made me laugh, he listened to my ramblings and he forced me to dance, knowing I would enjoy it. It felt like we were back in Duxford, and only one person was missing.

"Freya! James! You came!" a familiar voice forced me to shift my attention away from my partner for the night.

"Eden!" I exclaimed a bit too loudly, delighted to see her.

"You seem very cheerful," she observed as she responded to my embrace.

"She's had several drinks already," James explained with a laugh.

"Oh, come on! I'm fine! I'm just so happy to see you!" I defended myself.

"I'm glad you came," she wrapped her arm around mine while James greeted her husband with a firm handshake. "Let me show you the house," she suggested. "Gentlemen, we'll see you in a bit," she told them as she dragged me out of the room before I could say anything.

Her house was way bigger than my small flat in Kensington, and it took us a good deal of time to visit everything. When we finally reached the last bedroom, Eden got rid of the bottle of champagne she had grabbed at some point, putting it on the mantelpiece, the glass hurting the cold marble in a clear noise, signaling it was empty. She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bed, letting herself flop on the fluffy duvet. I followed and landed on my back, next to her, and as I stared at the ornaments on the ceiling, I felt like the whole world was spinning around me.

"So, how is your boy doing?" Eden asked.

"Good. He's an angel. He reminds me so much of his father..." I sighed melancholically.

"It's true, you can't be mistaken about who's the father," she giggled. "You should come here more often so he can play with Oscar. They could be friends!"

"It would be perfect," I agreed with her.

She then turned to me, a soft smile on her lips and we just silently stared at each other for a while, merry and pleased. Our lives were so different and so similar at the same time. She had a husband, a good situation, a lovely son and plans for the future. I was a young widow, I had my Tommy, a broken-heart and no idea what the next day would bring me. She had all she had ever wanted while I had almost lost everything, and yet, if I had to do it all over again, I would, for nothing could ever compare with what Andrew had given me, with the joy our son was giving me.

"I've missed you so much. I'm glad to have you back. You're my best friend."

"Well, my best friend never told me what happened between her and James, so is she really my best friend?" I pretended to be hurt to tease her.

"What?" she squealed. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know everything. Don't even try to deny it," I pressed my finger to her nose.

"What can I say? He was handsome," she laughed. "He still is..."

"Can you believe he's still single? He probably still loves you."

"Oh, stop! I already told you it wasn't like what you had with Andrew. And I'm happily married now. I've John."

"I know," I sighed, envious of her situation.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm not the one he loves. I mean, I've seen the way he always looks at you," she added.

"He's protecting me!" I protested.

"And waiting for you to notice that he has feelings for you."

"I've noticed..." I buried my face in my hands as talking about it made me uncomfortable.

"I'm sure he's been fighting his feelings for a while. At least since Duxford."

"Don't be silly! He was with you!" I tried to show how absurd her reflection was.

"I'm serious. He probably ignored it, but eyes don't lie. Not tonight and not back then either," she stated.

"No, you're mistaken. It's always been Andrew, since the beginning. Why would he have fallen in love with the girl his best friend was trying to seduce?" I wondered.

"Why would he fall in love with his best friend's wife?" she asked back.

Eden was never afraid to tell me what I did not want to hear, and sometimes I would have preferred her not to. Yet, we both knew she was telling the truth.

"I need a drink," I said as I got up all of a sudden and bolted from the room, giving no time to Eden to follow me.

I quickly went downstairs, grabbed an abandoned bottle on my way to the living room and swallowed a good sip of the alcohol. Gin, it was gin. I hated gin, but I needed courage to talk to James, so I drank a bit more. He was nowhere to be seen when I entered the room. He wasn't with Eden's husband anymore. I searched frantically in every room and scanned every face in view as my vision started to blur and I struggled to keep my balance. I made my way outside and gladly welcomed the sensation of the fresh air on my face, closing my eyes, feeling everything with more intensity. When I opened my eyes, I saw him on the other side of the patio, smoking his cigarette, casually leaning against the balustrade overlooking the garden.

I felt a knot form in my stomach because I couldn't deny the fact that I needed him more than anything in my life. His presence by my side was more than enjoyable, and I had selfishly done everything to keep his sweet company, pretending I had not noticed there was more than friendship on his side; but I had seen it too. I had noticed how he observed me sometimes, I had felt his hands linger on my body, craving the contact with my skin, I had seen the way he looked at my lips, as if he was repressing the desire to kiss me. And I had pretended I had seen nothing, but I owed him the truth.

I joined him in silence and forced myself to look happy. His face lit up when he noticed I was back.

"How was the tour?" he asked as he put out his cigarette.

"Alright," I shrugged.

"Then, what do you need this for?" he nodded towards the bottle I was still holding in my hands.

"Oh, that... I needed to clear my mind," I smiled with guilt.

"I don't think alcohol is recommended to clear your mind," he laughed.

"I couldn't find anything else," I said as I opened the bottle. "Want some?" I offered.

"I guess I need to clear my mind too," he accepted the gift.

I looked at him as he brought the neck of the bottle to his mouth. I did not want to break his heart or to cause pain. He was so good to me, and I knew he was taking care of me because of his pure heart, and not because he had feelings for me. Even so, I was scared he would leave me, but I had to say something. I could not go on and give him false hope, pretend it was right. It was not fair to him, and I owed it to Andrew too.

James frowned at the feeling of the liquid burning his throat as he swallowed, and then turned to me.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?" he worried.

I looked away and shook my head to refute his fear.

"Are you alright?" he insisted, but I could not answer.

"Frey', c'mon, I know there is something wrong," he softly grabbed my wrist to pull me closer.

The contact of his skin against mine brought tears to my eyes and I did my best to choke them back, but when I finally turned to him, they were trickling down my cheeks.

"Hey, what's going on? Why are you crying?" he asked as he took my face in his hands, one of his thumbs delicately brushing my cheek as if to erase the sadness from my face. His affection felt so right and so wrong at the same time. I was craving for a contact, a warm skin against mine, a hand to hold, arms to welcome me, but I could not get that from him. I couldn't. He was there, looking at me as Andrew used to, his fingers grazing my cheeks, his eyes resting on my lips, and when the air became unbreathable between us, I knew it was time to speak, before it was too late.

"I can't give you what you want," I sobbed.

"What do you mean?" he asked, completely lost.

"I can't love you the way you love me," I went straight to the point. "I can't give you that."

"Frey', please..." he tried to stop me. His hands left me, as if he suddenly felt guilty for his behaviour.

"My heart, it belongs to Andrew," I continued. "I'm sorry, but I can't give him up. I still love him."

"I know. That's why I'm not asking you anything. I know and I respect that."

"I'm sorry if I let you think there was a chance, I did not want to hurt you," I tried to make amend.

"You did nothing wrong," he comforted me.

"I feel like a monster telling you that. I don't want to be mean. Please don't hate me!"

"Oh c'mon! How could I hate you?" he said as he pulled me in his arms and held me tight.

I felt his hand caress my hair to try to comfort me, but I could not stop crying, too dizzy to control my body.

"I'm sorry I put you in that position... I should have hidden my feelings better."

I wished he had denied having feelings for me, it would have made things easier, but with these words out, I would not be able to see him without feeling guilty about it, without feeling I was betraying Andrew. Things would never be the same anymore and it hurt to realise that I had once again lost what brought happiness to my life.

"You deserve to find someone better than me," I mumbled against his chest. "You need to find someone who will love you back. I don't want to waste your time..."

"I'm here by choice. I don't expect anything from you!" he tried to make me feel better.

"Maybe..." I started, leaving his arms. "Maybe we should stop..." I could not express the decision I felt like I had to make, my voice broken with sobs.

"Please, don't ask me to stop seeing you and Tomas. You're the most important things in my life, you're the only reason I didn't lose control when I came back from France. If I don't have you, I've got nothing!" he tried to reach for my hand but I avoided his touch.

I did not say anything, he knew what I was about to say. He knew how I felt about the whole situation. And yet, this decision, the one my mind told me was the right thing to do, this decision, I was unable to make it. I did not want to break his heart.

"I swear I'll make things right, I'll hold it back, for you. I'll never cross the line, you can trust me. But I need you and you need me. You can't deny it. Don't ask me to leave you and the little man!" he pleaded, visibly scared I would ask something so cruel. He was losing his countenance.

He was right, I needed him. I was not ready to have to say goodbye to him from one day to the next. I could not bear to see the pain and the fear in his eyes, and so I never uttered the words I was supposed to say.

"We can do that! Do you trust me?" he asked as he took my face in his hands again, forcing me to look at him, smiling softly in hope I would agree to give him a chance. I closed my eyes, letting the remaining tears roll down my cheeks, and I nodded slightly, giving him the answer he was expecting. He sighed with relief and pressed his forehead against mine. I finally let myself enjoy his touch, seeking the comfort I needed. Even if it seemed inconceivable for me to replace Andrew in my heart for the time being, a new possibility was slowly growing into my mind. Maybe I would learn to let someone new into my life, someone who wanted my best. My guilt had not disappeared, but I was tired of fighting the light to stay into darkness. I had to allow myself to be happy again, and he was the best person to help me do that. I trusted him.


	32. The first day of the rest of our lives

I was at work when the news broke. War was over in Europe. I felt relieved, just like everyone else present in the pub on that evening of May, all gathered around the radio. Joy quickly filled the room when the words we had been waiting to hear for years were finally pronounced, and beer flew freely from the tap to celebrate, but I could not join them, I had nothing to celebrate. War was over, but at what cost? My husband would not return home and be a part of my life again. There was nothing to celebrate and so much to grieve. So many lost lives and yet, I felt like I was the only person in the room who missed someone on that particular day. There was not another sad face among the crowd, it was just me, and so I left.

I told Billy and Joseph I had to go and I left. I fled, but the spectacle outside was just as cruel to me. The streets were packed with people, bursts of laughter and songs could be heard at every corner, bells were tolling in the distance, freedom was the word in every mouth. I fought my way through the crowd, feeling like a fish swimming against the current. A wave of bliss had flooded the city and carried me away. The weight of my loss was keeping me underwater, out of the present moment, unable to feel anything but a terrible emptiness, and nobody saw me struggling. Their joy had erased me from the picture.

I kept walking, with one destination in mind. Everybody was out celebrating while all I wanted was to lock myself at home. I sighed with relief when I finally closed the door of the building behind me. I climbed the stairs in a hurry, opened the door and dropped my bag and my coat to the floor before struggling to take off my shoes, trying to keep my balance on one foot and the other, getting rid of what I associated to my feeling of suffocation.

"Dad?" I called as I made my way through the darkness that filled my flat, as an echo to what I felt inside of me.

"Here, darling!" I heard his comforting voice at the other end of the corridor before I could see the dim light slipping through the crack of the door.

As I entered Tommy's bedroom, I was met by his radiant smile and his sweet voice asking for me, and the sorrow in my heart immediately vanished. I would not cry, I was strong now. War had taught me to lose everything and forced me to become someone else, a totally different person from whom I was years before. I would not cry, I had already cried enough.

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" my father carefully asked as he handed me Tomas.

I grabbed my son and kissed him, inhaling his sweet smell, what was now home to me, and I hold him tight, as if to be sure he was real, I had not dreamt it all.

"I feel..." I started as I turned to my father. "I don't know... I don't feel like celebrating, that's all."

I sat on the armchair next to Tommy's bed and crossed my legs to place him there, close to me.

"It's okay. You don't have to."

"But I should be happy, shouldn't I?" I asked, looking at him with guilt. "But all I know is that this war took my husband, while other men can come back home. And when I see these happy families, all I can think about is how unfair it is!"

"Yes, it's unfair. And you'll always feel like it is, no matter the years. You'll always be jealous of other families, but you'll learn to live with that feeling. You'll focus on your son just like I focused on you, and you'll see, you'll be okay."

I said nothing but faintly smiled at my father to thank him for his words, because it was what I needed to hear, to know my feelings were not wrong. My attention was then drawn to Tomas who was wriggling in my arms, full of energy.

"Hey, what's up with you lil' monkey?" I asked him before covering his chubby cheeks with kisses. "Shouldn't you be sleeping already?"

"The cheering outside woke him up," my father explained. "And you know him, he didn't want to go back to sleep."

Indeed, Tomas did not seem tired at all, babbling as if he was part of the conversation. He wanted to be at the centre of attention, and he got all mine when he grabbed my necklace with his little fingers. It was a part of me, it had never left me since the day I had received it for my birthday, years before, and Tomas seemed to love it as much as I did. I gently took the pendant from his hands and opened it, revealing the photograph of Andrew that had been placed inside.

"Look, it's Daddy!" I showed my son who extended his hand to touch the jewellery.

"Dada," he repeated in his child's talk.

"Daddy would have loved to meet you. He loves you very, very much, just as much as Mama loves you. He loved you even before you were there," I told him as he was captivated by what he had in front of his eyes.

I got up with Tomas in my arms and walked to the window, my father silently observing me do what he had done with me years before.

"Your Dad was a pilot, do you know that? He was flying planes in the sky to protect us from very bad people, and he gave his life so you, me, grandpa and uncle James could live. And you see, all the happy people outside, they're singing because they don't have to be afraid of the bad people anymore. And that's thanks to your Daddy and to all the other heroes like him who protected us."

I pressed Tomas to my heart, bouncing him in my arms, needing his love more than anything in that moment.

"He was the most courageous person I know. And even if he is not with us anymore, I'm sure he's somewhere in the sky looking after us, because it was his favourite place to be."

I had no idea if my talking made any sense to my son, but the words I had told him to help him understand, they had helped me too. I did not have to celebrate the end of the war, but I could celebrate the heroic actions of my husband, and sharing his story with my son was the best way to do it.

And as if to mark my words, fireworks illuminated the sky with fleeting stars, kindling Tomas's interest.

I could see the sparkles reflecting in his eyes. He was not even afraid but captivated by the spectacle unfolding before him, as if he was witnessing something out of this world. I was glad to know he would grow up in a world where the sound of bombs had been replaced by that of fireworks.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


The first thing we were offered when we returned to the RAF was a hot shower. What could be seen as ordinary for most people was a true delight to us, a luxury we had been deprived of for too long. The room was busy but I was alone in my world as soon as I stepped under the shower, all my comrades fading away as part of a blurry background and their talking making the surrounding noise. Weary, I rubbed my face and groaned at the contact of the hot water against my skin. We had been moved for days on a never-ending journey to delay our liberation. We knew freedom was close, but they refused to accept it and they forced us to walk until they could not anymore. Now we could rest.

I had never lost hope that this day would come, the day I would come back home, and yet, I could not believe it was there. I could not process the idea that the war I had fought for so many years of my young life was now coming to an end. My nightmare was over, just like that of all the other men like me. Stepping on the ground of our motherland had been an emotional moment for all of us, we had all looked at each other with teary eyes in a silent questioning of the realness of what we were living, but we had quickly gone back to joking and dreaming of how it would be to reunite with our families. We were still used to keeping our feelings to ourselves and never discuss the ones we were missing and waiting to see again. Parents, sisters, brothers, wives, children, we all had someone waiting for us. We all hoped we would find our world the way we had left it.

But even if my world had not changed, it would never be the same. I, would never be the same. I had joined the RAF with the wish to become a war hero, like my grandpa before me, and I had naively thought it would come at no cost. The Tea Party to welcome us back to England, the pats on the back and fake smiles I had received, the Flying Distinction I had been awarded, I did not want them. I did not feel like a hero, I would never be one. I did not want people to thank me for my service when I had spent the last two years of the war as a prisoner. I was not a hero. The heroes were the ones who had given their lives to save those of others, who had fought to their last breath. Not I, who had waited two years for others to free me. Farrier was a hero, and yet I was the one being rewarded, just like after Dunkirk. I did not deserve the recognition of my peers, nor that of my people. I had done nothing and let down everyone.

I lifted my head to let the water run down my face, holding my breath until I had no choice but to inhale again, until my chest hurt and my thoughts blurred, until all I could think about was the air I needed. I was trapped in my dark thoughts just like I was trapped in my spitfire, water slowly swallowing me. Nothing would erase the haunting memories of what I had been through, of the fear I had felt, the horror I had witnessed and the guilt that was part of me. The deliverance had just been physical, my mind was still at the mercy of the enemy. I had brought ghosts with me, and the sickness in my heart kept getting stronger, as I knew I would have to go back to normal life very soon. But how was I supposed to go back to normal life when war was still occurring in my head? I could not keep on pretending I was fine.

I tried to convince myself that all of it was now memories that I had to store at the bottom of my mind, and so I spent long minutes washing my hair and rubbing every inch of my skin as if to erase the past years off me. I did not want to think about it anymore. All I wanted was to see Freya again and I was certain that all my nightmares would disappear with her by my side. I wanted to look into her eyes and maybe find something that would help me remember who I used to be. I could not wait to hold her in my arms and bury my face in the crook of her neck, feel the softness of her skin and her delicate fingers grazing my back. I would never let her go, never let her leave my embrace. I hoped she would forgive me. I hoped she would be waiting for me.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


It felt like the whole of London was out in the streets and I was with them. I would have probably stayed inside if it wasn't for James and Joseph dragging me outside, forcing me to see the royal family at Buckingham Palace as it was an important day that every British would never forget. I knew they wanted to change my mind for a day, or a few hours at least, so I let them do, even if a big crowd was not the environment in which I felt the most at ease. But all the Union Jack flags flying around were a beautiful spectacle to see, merging into a sea of red, white and blue hues as to celebrate the victory of our country, and watching people climb Victoria's memorial was quite entertaining, when I was not scared they would fall. But there had been no casualties, at least while we were there.

We had said goodbye to Joseph after that and wandered through the streets of the city, enjoying the nice weather and the cheerful atmosphere that had replaced the tension of the past years. The happy mood of Londoners was contagious, and I had managed to let go of my problems for a while. This victory was like a second spring, an awakening of nature and life which was most welcomed by everyone. Bands were even playing in the streets to perpetuate this feeling for as long as possible. Of course, the impact of war was clearly visible everywhere we went, but at least, we weren't fearing another air raid, we would not hear the sirens again. We would not have to bury more men, we already had enough lives to mourn, as proven by the temporary memorials set up here and there. I had stopped to observe the photographs of every soul that had been lost forever, knowing they had been put there by people like me who did not want them to be forgotten. Andrew was just one more face among all those black-and-white portraits, an unknown soldier to all those other hurt families. They were faces frozen forever, people who would never get older. Maybe I should have put him there, so people knew he had died for his country too, but I selfishly wanted to keep him for myself. I would just make sure that the people who loved him always hear his name, because just like the King had rightly said, we had to remember those who would not come back, we had to remember their constancy and courage in battle, their sacrifice and endurance in the face of a merciless enemy. We would remember the men and women who had laid down their lives, because we had reached the end of the war thanks to them, but they were not with us at the moment of our rejoicing. They were the reason we could now walk the streets with no fear but they were not here to witness peace.

"Let's go back to your place, shall we?" James pulled me out of my thoughts, gently leading me away from the photographs. I did not offer resistance, I knew staying there for too long would make me sick with sadness.

"Tommy must be so eager to have you back," he added.

I smiled, he was right, and I was eager to see my son too.

"Would you like to spend some time with him this evening?" I offered, already knowing his answer.

"Sure, if the lil' man wants to see me."

"He always does."

I was happy to know I would have him by my side for a few more hours, and I wrapped my arm around his as we walked back to my neighbourhood in silence. James was not a big talker most of the time, he would only say something when needed, but he hated small talk or chatting about the weather. He was not like that and I could not blame him. We were both tired anyway.

"I was thinking, maybe I could take you and Tommy somewhere nice in the days to come," he suddenly announced, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

"What do you mean?" I forced him to elaborate on the matter, surprised by his unusual spirit of initiative regarding social matters.

"I mean a trip to the countryside, or something like that," he turned to me. "We could go see my parents. My mother has been asking me to visit for months and I have always told her I needed to stay here to help you. So, maybe if she sees you and Tommy, she will understand why it took me so long," he laughed.

"Are we just a way for you to avoid your mother scolding?" I joked.

"No! I just thought it would be nice to make the most of it!" he defended himself.

"I know," I giggled. "But you should visit your mother more often or she'll think you don't love her."

"Oh stop, you sound just like her! I love her with all my heart, it's just I love yo..." he stopped before the end of his sentence and quickly looked away, realising he was about to say something he was supposed to keep for himself. "It means a lot to me to help you."

"And I appreciate that," I added immediately, pretending I had not paid attention.

"So, would you like to do that?" he asked again, probably fearing a negative answer after that slip of the tongue.

"Yeah, sure. Let's do that!" I said as I squeezed his arm to show him everything was fine.

A bit later, we both stepped into my flat with much relief, glad to find a cooler place where we could finally rest.

"Did you have a nice time?" my father asked when he saw us.

"We did, thank you George," James said as he went directly to meet Tomas who was sitting in the armchair. "Hello big man," he greeted him and lifted him in the air, triggering giggles from my son who was trying to free himself from his strong arms. I always loved to see the special bond these two had. I observed them for a little while before heading to the kitchen to get a drink.

"You've received a telegram while you were away," my father informed me as I went back to the living room with two glasses of water, handing one to James and putting the other one on the coffee table.

"Where is it?"

"I left it in the entrance, thought you'd see it when coming back," he told me.

I gave a kiss to Tomas who was now settled on James's lap and headed to the front of the flat to grab the yellow envelope that was displayed on the table. I opened it as I walked back to the living room, my eyes going back to the three men waiting for me there.

"Do you want to eat with us tonight, James?" I asked my friend.

"I'd love to."

"I'll cook potatoes. Your favourite," I joked. "And I might still have some meat to go with that,"

"Anything will do, don't worry."

"I guess we'll have to eat potatoes for a while, even if the war is over..." I sighed, sitting on the couch next to my father, pressing the folded piece of paper against my thighs.

"War might be over, but the scars will take time to fade away..." my father observed.

"I can't wait for the day we won't have to queue for hours to get food."

"I can't wait to be able to buy proper bread," James added ironically.

I grabbed my glass of water and took a sip as I glanced at the content of the telegram while trying to keep up with the conversation going on between my father and James, but I suddenly froze when I read a bunch of words that made my heart skip a beat. I thought my mind was playing me a trick, but the words were still the same the second time I read them, and the third time too, and all I could hear was my heart pumping in my chest, like the deafening noise of a spitfire engine. The wish I had kept for years had finally been fulfilled when I had been so close to give it up, my prayers had been heard when I thought there was no hope anymore. My eyes had seen these words, they had read their meaning but my mind could not process it, and my body would not move, until the hand of my father on my shoulder brought me back to reality.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?" he worried.

I looked at him, and then James who was also staring at me with incomprehension and worry in his eyes, waiting for an answer. Only then did I notice that the glass of water I had been holding in my hand was now shattered on the floor, and tears had stained the paper that was arousing everyone's curiosity.

"Freya?" James carefully asked, trying to get my attention. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth to erase their worry but nothing came out, my throat was so dry I could not make a noise.

"What's in the letter?" he insisted.

"He's coming back..." I finally managed to say, my body shaken by sobs. "He's coming back home."

"Who's coming back?" my father asked as he took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him to try to get an answer that would help him understand what I was unable to tell him. He probably thought I had turned crazy for I just stared at him, too overwhelmed to control my tears. Except he did not know that this time, they were tears of happiness.

Knowing he would not get an answer out of his daughter, he took the telegram from my hands to read it by himself. When I looked at James again, my vision was clear enough to see in his eyes that he knew what was going to happen. He was smiling but his face was carrying an indefinable sadness at the same time, something he could not hide despite his biggest efforts. His hands had tightened around Tomas, betraying his thoughts. He knew we would not go to the countryside with him. He had understood Andrew was coming back.


	33. I shouldn't have missed it

The train slowed down as it entered London and it was then that I finally saw the impact of war on my country. London had suffered and its wounds were still open; gigantic holes could be seen where bombs had landed, skeletons of buildings were standing where houses used to accommodate families, a whole line of facades was hiding nothing but an empty field, a spectacle of desolation. Suddenly my heart raced at the thought that my home could have been blown away too, that my family could have been hurt during my absence and I would have no idea it had happened. I had received no answer to my telegram, even if I did not really have the time to. I had no idea if someone would be waiting for me at the station.

The more the train decreased its speed, the faster my heart was beating, the heavier my breathing became. I closed my eyes and silently prayed for everyone to be safe, digging my nails into the flesh of my palms to erase the feeling of sickness that had taken over me since stepping into the carriage. I did not know how to apprehend my return, torn between the excitement to see Freya again and the fear that she would not be there to welcome me. When I opened my eyes again, the sky had darkened and raindrops were crashing onto the glass of the window, blurring the life that was happening out there, the flags hung at the windows, the posters celebrating peace. Life was going on, even among the ruins; the world had never stopped spinning and it was telling me that it did not care I was coming back today. I was already lucky to be alive.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


Every second waiting felt like an hour and Tomas started to show signs of irritation, moving about in my father's arms, whining for me to take him, but I could not. I felt sick in my stomach and a lump had formed in my throat the moment I had started getting ready to go to the station. I was dreading the moment Andrew would discover Tomas, fearing his reaction the most. Would he be happy or scared? Would he know it was his child or think I had cheated on him while he was away? Would he give me time to explain? I hoped he would trust me; he had to. I had always been faithful to him,even as a widow, I had always kept him in my heart, I had done so thinking I would never see him again. They had told me I would never see him again, they had destroyed all hope from the very beginning and I had almost given up, I had abandoned him and I would never forgive myself, but I would make amends for it.

I knew this reunion would be different from everything I had dreamed of before the accident. I had imagined the moment Andrew and I would be reunited for good, the war belonging to the past. It would have been the start of a normal life, the time to start our own family. But things were different now. We had become a family before we could even think about it together, and we would never retrieve the years we had lost. I could not imagine what a shock it would be for my husband. I did not know how to tell him. I had not slept the night before, thinking about the right words I could use, how to introduce Tomas, when to let him see his son, but there were no right words, there was no perfect timing. I was just hoping he would know.

My legs were shaking and my hands were sweaty. I started playing with my wedding ring as I fixed my eyes on the rails in the distance, waiting for the train to arrive, feeling like I was about to faint at any time. I could not believe he was alive, I was scared it was all a dream and I would wake up at some point and be left with an aching heart. What told me this letter was telling the truth this time? Trust my instincts, it was what I had to do, and they told me he was coming back to me.

When the locomotive appeared at the end of the track, I closed my eyes and held my breath. I refused to believe he was alive before I had seen him, heard him and touched him so I was sure he was not the result of my imagination, so I knew I could let go. I squeezed my necklace in my hand and I prayed not to wake up from that dream, waiting for the train to come to a halt before allowing myself to open my eyes.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


The train stopped in a shrill sound, waking up the passengers who had somehow fallen asleep during the journey. I grabbed my almost empty bag and left my seat to make my way out of the carriage. I stopped at the edge of the door and inhaled deeply before stepping onto the platform. I was home, and yet, I felt lost, there was no one looking for me. I stood still, hoping to discover my wife among the bystanders, while other travellers met the ones who had been waiting for them. The thought that maybe she had not received my telegram had just crossed my mind when a familiar voice calling my name made me turn around. I had only caught a glimpse of her blond hair that my sister had already thrown her arms around me, causing me to almost lose my balance. She held me so tight that I could not breathe properly, but her presence was so comforting that I leant into it and responded to her embrace. Jane quickly followed and I welcomed her affection without hesitation, I had missed them for too long. I wanted to be the little brother again, not the missing soldier, but their tears kept reminding me of what had happened to me.

When Mary and Jane finally released their embrace, it was to give way to my mother. She approached me, tears already running down her cheeks and she cupped my face with her hands, her eyes scanning every detail of my face as if to be sure I was not an illusion.

"Oh, my boy! It's you my boy!" she sobbed.

I forced a smile to confirm her words and to reassure her. I was indeed the person she wanted to see, just a bit different. She was different too. She looked way older than the last time I had seen her, my father too, and I could not erase the thought that I was responsible for that change. I swallowed my guilt and bent forward to allow my mother to take me in her arms and press me to her heart, just like when I was a child and needed to be comforted. Maybe she knew I was not feeling well, or maybe it was just what mothers did. She might have been scared to find me in an awful state, but I was presenting well. I was there in front of her, in one piece, standing on my two legs and my arms totally functional so I could give her love to.

I was relieved to see that nothing had happened to them during my absence; my mother was still very demonstrative and overprotective while my father, always true to himself, had only patted my shoulder as a proof he was glad to see me alive. I wished my sisters would not be so serious, but would make jokes about my time away instead. I did not want our reunion to be so dramatic, but they seemed to show some restraint, and my mother was clinging to me as if she feared I would vanish before her eyes like a ghost, asking over and over again if I was real, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. My mind was elsewhere, my eyes were looking for Freya. Where was she? It was her I should have seen already, it was her arms I needed, her smile I wanted to see. I feared something had happened to her and they wanted to hide it from me. The thought of it was unbearable, worsened by the physical proximity of my relatives, by their arms clinging to me and asking too much from me. I tried to free myself from my mother's grasp, moved by a single desire, ignoring her begging for me to stay a little longer with her.

"Let him go Mama. Let him see her," Mary convinced my mother to release her grasp on my jacket, enabling me to finally turn around and follow my sister's gaze. When I finally caught sight of her in the distance, time froze instantly. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time ever, it was only her. I was back in that corridor in Duxford, struck by her radiant beauty. It was only her, nobody else mattered, and all my fears vanished when she softly smiled at me.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I had recognised him instantly when he had stepped out of the train. My tall, blond pilot dressed in blue, standing out among all these grey figures. He was like an apparition, as if I could not believe my eyes that it was truly him I was seeing there. From afar, he looked just the same as when I had seen him for the last time, and all the feelings that he had once aroused in me, that I had almost forgotten, came back stronger than ever. I had fought the urge to be the first to touch him and kiss him, to tell the world he was mine. I would have him for myself at some point, I had to wait for him to look for me.

He was there now, only a short distance from me, so close and yet so far; but I could see the smile form on his face when he started walking towards me, slowly and then faster. I would have run into his arms if I had listened to my heart, forgetting about the rest of the world just to be with him, at last. Instead, I approached my father to take Tomas, and when I turned around, Andrew had stopped short, an incredulous look over his face, only his eyes scanning the people around me to try to understand why I was holding this child in my arms. It was only when he looked back at me that he made the connection. His mouth fell agape and a veil of pain covered his eyes. He ran a hand across his face, not knowing what to believe, and turned to his family only to be met by their silent confirmation that he was not mistaken. I needed to tell him that everything was alright, that he did not have to be scared or to feel guilty for we were all together now, and so I walked towards him as quickly as I could. He fell to his knees as I reached him, unable to hold himself together any longer, and when I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, I could feel the tremors running through his body as he was sobbing uncontrollably against my chest. My heart broke when he finally talked to me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated in a choked voice. "I'm so sorry."

I eagerly kissed the top of his head to prove him he did not have to apologise for anything, burying my face in his blond hair, giving him all the love he deserved. I desperately tried to make him look at me, but he would not move.

"We're together now," I whispered, crushed by his distress.

I held back my tears and tried to make him feel better, my free hand seeking any contact with him, making sure he was real. He was there. He was in my arms, I could feel him under my touch, smell his perfume and experience sensations I thought I had lost forever. I had never felt so grateful in my life.

Andrew had finally stopped apologising when Tomas, who had decided he needed attention, pressed his small hand to his jaw, causing him to leave my embrace to look properly at his son for the first time.

"This is Tomas," I softly told him as he turned his lost eyes to me.

"Tommy, this is your Daddy," I then told my son on a more cheerful tone.

"Dada!" Tomas immediately repeated his favourite word to his father's greatest surprise. He was too young to understand the significance of his words in such a defining moment, but it meant so much.

Andrew did not refuse to hold him when I placed him in his arms, but he kept him at a safe distance as he stood up, examining the little boy he had in front of him while processing the news. He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his jacket and frowned to try to regain his composure, but Tomas's happy eyes fixed on him, and the big smile that grew on his son's face, managed to soften his features. When he turned to me with apologising eyes again, I was scared he would tell me he did not feel he could do it, that it was too much to bear; but instead, he extended his hand in my direction to invite me in his arms. I immediately snuggled up to him, enjoying the feeling of his arm wrapping around my body, hugging me so tight. I observed his large hand holding Tomas so close to him and felt a delightful sensation of relief. When I looked up at him, the mistrust he had first shown towards Tomas had been replaced with curiosity and fondness. I knew he would need time to process such a life-changing responsibility, but I had no doubt he would end up being an incredible father to our son. I could see it. He had not doubted one second that they were sharing the same blood.

Following my impulse and guided by the overwhelming love I felt at that instant, I softly pressed my hand to his cheek to get his attention, and I guided his face towards me until I could finally feel his lips against mine. He quickly responded, his hand moving to rest firmly at the back of my head, to turn our kiss into a rough and passionate exchange. It was the expression of years of lack, of sorrow and hopes, love in its purest and simplest form, the evocation of how strongly we had missed each other. I did not want to leave his mouth, to have to break the connection we had been craving for so long. He was my only love, the only one who could make me feel that way, and he was back in my life. I could not believe it was his lips I was tasting, that it was him I was kissing, and yet, I was not dreaming.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I was a mere spectator of my own life, trying to find my place in a world that had evolved without me. People were behaving as if nothing had changed, as if my return would erase the two years I had missed, but the life I had found had nothing to do with the one I had left behind me. Tomas was the living proof of that. He had my hair, my eyes, my expressions; he was my son, the one I had desired so much, and yet, I could not feel my heart fill with love when looking at him, as one would expect from a father. He was my son but I did not know him, and I felt awful.

I was observing Freya bloom as a mother, radiating the joy that had made me fall in love with her, but something prevented me from joining her and Tomas, a feeling that I did not belong here, in my parent's house, at this party in my honour; and so, I was standing passively at my mother's side, responding to the well wishes and greetings of the people she had invited to celebrate my return, shaking hands and smiling politely to please everyone. I was present physically, but my head was elsewhere. My body was in England, but my mind was still trapped in Germany.

"Welcome back Andrew!" a man I had never seen before greeted me. "It must have been quite a shock to discover you had a son, I can't imagine... but you must be so proud!" he patted me on the shoulder, pretending to care about what I was going through.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I am," I replied absentmindedly. "Will you excuse me," I told my mother and that stranger, cordially pushing him out of my way to leave that dreadful place as quickly as possible, to avoid yelling at everyone to leave me alone and go to hell. All they could see was the Flying Cross adorning my uniform, they did not see past the surface. To them, I was a flying ace, and aces could not be weak.

I stopped when I found myself outside, at the back of the house, away from the crowd, and I unleashed the darkness that had built up inside of me, swearing and groaning through gritted teeth, clenching my fists to try to contain the anger I felt. I hated myself for feeling that way and being unable to behave normally while being surrounded with the people I loved, but they did not know how I felt. They ignored everything. Exhausted, I sat on the wet stairs leading to the garden and I took out the pack of cigarettes that I had kept in my pocket. I placed one between my lips and struggled to light it because of my shaky hands. I ignored this clear proof of my uneasiness and drew on my cigarette, filling my throat and my lungs with smoke, hoping it would make me feel better for a short while. I could hear people chatting inside and I wondered if they had noticed my absence. I wondered if they would have missed me if I had never come back.

I was already at the end of my second cigarette when I felt a presence at my side. I did not have to look to know it was her.

"Here you are," she said. "Do you mind if I join you?"

I shook my head and looked at her from the corner of my eye. Thankfully, she had not changed, she did not look like a stranger to me.

"That's a lot to process in a short amount of time, right?" she asked as she tenderly pressed her hand to my thigh and rested her head on my shoulder. I let her do as I crushed my cigarette to the stone of the staircase. I wanted to respond to her display of affection, show her that I loved her, but my body would not cooperate. Instead, I only gave her a faint smile.

"Yes... It's a bit more than I expected, but it's alright. I think I just need some rest," I tried to sound convincing.

"We should go home," she suggested. "But first... there's someone special who wants to see you."

"Who?" I asked, hoping it was not another friend of my mother who wanted to meet the prodigal son.

"It might come as a shock..." she started to explain as she moved away from me, "but it happens that James was made prisoner too..."

"Farrier?" I repeated as I immediately stood up.

"He's alive. He wants to see you, if you feel like it," she added as she followed me and placed a reassuring hand on my arm.

"He's there?" I questioned, looking around me as if I would discover him hiding somewhere.

"Let me get him," Freya informed me before going back inside, leaving me alone again.

I walked down the stairs and paced through the grass, thinking that it must have been a mistake, that I did not hear properly, but I froze when he appeared on the patio. He was alive too, and he was coming my way as I proved incapable to move.

"Collins!" he muttered my name as he firmly wrapped me in his arms, something he had rarely done before. I did not resist and grabbed onto his jacket to hold him tighter. We remained like that for a while, in complete silence, knowing words were unnecessary to express our joy to be reunited. To have him by my side was a great relief, for I finally had someone who could understand me and what I had been through. Someone I could talk to.  
  
  


*****  
  


Nights were still as terrifying to me as they used to be back there, even if I had Freya by my side, even if I was back in my bed, in my own flat, where nothing could happen to me, in theory. I was struggling to keep my eyes open, fighting to delay the nightmares as much as possible, but the day had been a long, emotionally tiring one, and I knew I would lose the battle at some point.

I thought about the events of the day, what I had expected to find and what was now my life. My relatives were all alive but completely ignorant of what I had been through, my best friend had managed to escape the enemy, and I now had a family of my own, a son whose existence I had ignored for too long. It was something I should not have missed. But the worse was probably that everyone, even my parents and my wife, had thought me dead during those last two years. They had mourned me while I was fighting to stay alive and come back to them. They had started to move on without me; but not Freya. She had been through the worst because of me, she had been forced to live what she had been dreading the most, all because of me. I had abandoned her at the worst of times, leaving her no choice but to raise a child on her own, and yet, she did not hate me. She had turned so strong, stronger than she had ever been, even though she looked more fragile than ever, physically marked by my absence.

For now, I wanted to be only with her, just the two of us, as we were before my accident. I wanted to be as carefree and innocent again, to experience everything with her, to be fearless, but I knew it was impossible. At least, I still had her by my side. I observed her, nestled against me, sound asleep, so peaceful, and I envied her. The light of the bedside lamp was tinting her skin with warm hues that made the vision of her even more comforting. She had kept her hair short, just like I had asked her in the last letter she had received from me, and she was still wearing the necklace I had given her, she had not removed her wedding ring; she had told me she had never stopped loving me. She had kept every object that reminded her of me while I had come back home with none of her gifts. They had taken everything from me, they had deprived me of her love and I did not know if I would ever be worth it again.

I closed my eyes, trying to free my mind from these negative thoughts, but when I opened them again, dark shapes were dancing on the walls, haunting visions from the past, looking for me. They wanted to take me back there, they did not want me free. I knew they were constructions of my mind but they would not vanish, they would only get closer, causing my heart to race, until Freya moving against me and tightening her arm around my waist brought me back to reality. I would need her to get better, I knew I could not do it without her, but I was scared I would drag her into the darkness with me.


	34. Another sort of scar

It was just a slight noise coming from the front of the flat, but it was enough to wake me up and alert me. I despised myself for having fallen asleep when I was supposed to look after my family. I had to protect them, I could not let someone hurt them. I scanned the room in the soft light spread by the bedside lamp, but I did not catch anything unusual. Everything was where it was supposed to be, Freya was still sleeping by my side, and breathing, and there was no one else in the room. I thought I had dreamt it, when I heard it again, the noise. Something very faint, distant, almost inaudible, but I had learnt to notice them and be vigilant. It was a matter of survival.

I got out of bed as quietly as possible, making sure Freya was not disturbed, and I walked to the door, keeping my ears open, determined to discover where that noise came from. My senses were all on, I was perfectly alert, expecting to discover an intruder at any moment, but my heart rate was slow, my footsteps were quiet. If war had taught me something, it was to control my fear, to stay calm even in the worst situations because fear would prevent me from doing the right things.

Stepping into the dark corridor, I immediately turned my eyes towards Tomas's room, but the door was still half-closed, as Freya had left it before joining me in bed. I walked into nonetheless, feeling the need to check on him, make sure he was okay. Only the moon lit up the room and allowed me to see him in his cradle, lying on his back, his arms spread on each side of his head, perfect picture of peace. He, contrary to me, did not need a reassuring light at night.

I walked backwards, careful not to wake him up, closing the door, when I suddenly felt a presence behind me, followed by a hand grabbing my shoulder. I turned around almost immediately and pinned my assailant against the wall, one of my hands pushing firmly on his shoulder, the other tightening around his throat, ready to get rid of him. There was nowhere I was safe; the enemy was everywhere, in my head, in my home. I could not find peace, they would not let me go, but I would not let them hurt my family. The anonymous hand clutched my arm, asking for mercy, but there was no mercy on the battlefield. I was about to squeeze harder when an imploring voice calling my name made me stop. It was as if I was seeing again, as if I had woken up, and the intruder before my eyes wasn't one, it was my wife. The enemy had never existed.

I released my hand from around her throat and backed up, horrified by what I had just done. I saw Freya slip to the floor, holding her neck, trying to catch her breath, with difficulty.

"Freya..." I worried as I quickly kneeled at her side to help her, but she did not let me approach her, raising her arm in the air as a mechanism of defence, shielding herself from me. The fear that I saw in her eyes at that moment was enough to make me understand I had to disappear.

"I'm sorry," I said as I stood up and left to seek shelter in the bathroom and hide from her sight.

I opened the tap of the sink and splashed cold water in my face, hoping it was just a nightmare, praying for it to be a trick of my mind. I wanted to erase it all, to go back in time. I wished I had never touched her, but the reflection I met in the mirror was the monstrous representation of whom I had become. There was nothing of the Andrew I had once been, and I wondered why she had decided to stay with me after all. What I saw was a man so destroyed it was written on his face. Worry had dug wrinkles on his forehead, his furrowed brows had become his only expression, dark circles had settled permanently under his eyes and every trace of joy had disappeared a long time ago. I hated what I saw, I despised this man, this monster that Freya had seen. I loathed what I had become.

Overwhelmed by rage, I sent my fist to crash onto the mirror, shattering it into pieces, destroying what I could not bear to see anymore. Only fragments remained in place, sending an incomplete image of my face, a more accurate depiction of reality. Blood started dripping from my knuckles but I did not feel anything, not even the slightest amount of pain when all I wanted was to punish myself for what I had done to her. I forced myself to release the tension in my fingers, unclenching my fist, observing the scarlet liquid cover my skin as my hand started shaking again and I was unable to control it. There was something wrong about me, and I could not get rid of it.

When the door opened and revealed her silhouette, I thought she would tell me she was leaving, but instead, she looked at me with her usual kindness, as if she could not see the monster inside of me.

"No," I warned her. "Don't come closer!"

She was not safe in my presence, she would never be safe ever again with me by her side.

"But I want to," she refused to listen to me and approached me nonetheless.

"I'm not myself!" I tried to explain. "This is not me!" I said as I pointed to the corridor to refer to what had just happened. "It's not me!"

"I know," she tried to reassure me, pressing her soothing hand on my cheek. "I know it's not you."

But I could not look at her, I refused to touch her even if all I wanted was to fall in her arms and release all the sorrow I had inside of me. I wanted her warmth and her love but I did not deserve any of it.

"Let me help you," she told me as she wiped a tear that had rolled on my cheek without me realising it.

I swallowed my guilt and clenched my teeth. I ignored the burning pain that pressed on my heart. I did not oppose her and I let her take my injured hand in her. I let her treat my wounds and wrap my hand in a bandage, slowly and carefully, as if she knew it would help me calm down.

"I'm sorry," I repeated once she was done, shaking my head, trying to meet her eyes, knowing words would never be enough to make her forgive me. "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

She did not listen, but she took me in her arms and pressed me to her heart, and she stayed that close to me until my hand stopped shaking and my heart stopped aching. She wanted me to forgive myself.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


My morning routine was the same as during the war, the only thing I had managed to keep consistent throughout time, wherever I was. It had something reassuring in the way it was something I could control, so I kept doing it every morning, no matter what. Get out of bed, whether I had managed to sleep or not, do those one hundred push ups, followed by one hundred sit ups, and add more if it had not been enough to erase those obsessive thoughts. Take a cold shower and dress up. Not in my RAF uniform anymore, Freya had forbidden me. I had yielded to her desire, even though it was the only thing in which I felt like I mattered... Then, I would smoke a cigarette while waiting for orders. Unless, there were no more orders, and I had no idea what to do with my days.

I was ready to have that cigarette when I bumped into Freya at the kitchen door.

"Oh, hi darling, here you are!" she greeted me with a cheerful smile and treated me as the Andrew she had always known.

"I'm leaving for work. I'm already late. Tomas is in his chair; his meal is ready. Can you deal with that for me please?" she said in a rush while putting on her jacket. "Thank you!" she added before I could say a word, giving me a quick peck on the lips and heading out.

"See ya later!" I shouted so she could hear me even if she had already closed the door. She was leaving me no choice but to do what she had asked me to, and I was convinced she had done that on purpose, knowing I would have tried to find an excuse to escape my responsibilities of a father.

"Looks like it's only you and me now, aye?" I told Tomas who had focused his attention on me.

I put the pack of cigarettes back in my pocket and sat at the table next to him, meeting his eyes full of expectation. I was more scared of him than he was scared of me. I felt like I had no idea how to behave with him, how to take care of him, while it had always come naturally with my nephews, but it was different with Tomas, it felt like he was judging me for having abandoned him and his mother for two years.

I grabbed the bowl filled with an orange mixture that Freya had left on the table and I dipped my finger in it before bringing it to my mouth to check if it was not too hot.

"Right. Carrots. Good stuff," I said as I turned to face Tomas who had already his mouth open, waiting for me to feed him, which made me snort with amusement. This little lad knew his priorities.

I took a spoonful of the mash and placed it carefully in his mouth, hoping he would not spit it out with disgust, but he swallowed it quickly and asked for more. The second mouthful was swallowed just as quickly, and the next too, and I finally took time to look at him properly and detail his features, from his heart-shaped lips covered with carrots to the long blond eyelashes lining his light blue eyes.

"You do look like me," I told him as I used my thumb to wipe the orange mixture stuck to the corner of his mouth. "But you got your mother's freckles and her big heart too, don't you laddie?"

Tomas smiled and tried to grab my fingers, but I instinctively withdrew my hand.

"It's better that way. I wouldn't want you to be like me. There's nothing good about me."

I scraped the plate to get Tomas to finish his meal.

"Okay, just two more spoons and we're good," I informed him as I approached the food to his mouth, but he had decided he had had enough and pushed it back.

"Oh, really? That's how it is now?" I asked in surprise but tried again. "Come on, open your mouth," I insisted, but he was stubborn. Another personality trait he had inherited from his mother. Or a bit from me too.

The only way to have him change his mind was to use that old trick that would always work with Charles. I had noticed the plane toy in front of Tomas, which used to be mine, and I decided it was time to put it to good use. I placed the spoon on top of it and started flying it before Tomas's eyes, arousing his curiosity, making him forget that he did not want to eat anymore.

"You need to open this mouth, so Daddy's plane can deliver its shipment."

I did not notice I had called myself his dad, as words had come out very naturally; I was only glad to see that my strategy had proved to be useful and that I would not have to fight with him since he let me feed him without protesting.

"Good," I congratulated him. "Last one now."

He had communicated his enthusiasm to me, made me forget I was a stranger to him, and for a while, I thought I could do it, learn to love him, because he was the kind of child you instantly fell in love with, unless you were a damaged soul like me. He was a magic child, and his smile finally triggered mine, and his giggles, and his happy eyes following the plane encouraged me to continue. But as an unexpected call back to reality, his mouth closed and his hand sent the spoon and the toy to the floor as he expressed his discontent.

I was so taken aback by his sudden change of behaviour that I did not scold him. My eyes simply fixed on the plane which had crashed on the yellow tiles of the kitchen and the purée splashed everywhere, and I was back to that day again. All I could think about were my fists clenching the wood of the chair and my breathing becoming heavier as I tried to get rid of the flashbacks invading my mind. I was about to lose when a loud knock on the door forced me to leave my dark place.

"Don't move," I told Tomas who had turned surprisingly quiet. It was not as if he could go anywhere.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


"You need to sleep mate!" James said as soon as he saw me open the door. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

I sighed and said nothing, inviting him to follow me to the kitchen.

"Nightmares?" he asked in a more serious tone, before he turned his attention to Tomas and greeted him by pinching his cheek while calling him "little monkey", triggering a genuine laugh from my son.

"Yes," I answered his question. "Every night."

"It takes time for those things to go away. I still have some. It's shit. I don't know if you can ever get rid of them."

"Well, I hope you're wrong. It has to get better. I can't do that to Freya," I admitted as I picked Tomas up from his chair and headed to the living room, closely followed by James who had collected the plane from the floor and was distracting my son with it.

"She can deal with your nightmares. She has done before."

"I hurt her," I let out as I placed Tomas on the floor so he could play with his toys while I talked with my friend.

"What do you mean?"

"I hit her... I almost choked her," I struggled to say, realising the gravity of my confession.

James remained silent while I was desperate to hear him say something to ease the atmosphere. His eyes landed on my injured hand. He did not have to ask to know I had inflected that to myself.

"I could have killed her, because I was convinced she was a German spy or some fucking Boche looking for me," I buried my face in my hands. "I'm a fucking madman. I almost killed my wife!"

"But you didn't."

"No, but what if it happens again?"

"It won't. You'll get better," he lied to me.

"I can't get better," I gave a sour laugh. "I'm a threat to her. I should not be here, I'm no good for her!"

"C'mon! You know that's not true! She needs you."

"She needs someone who'll protect her, not someone with a sick mind like me."

"Don't you think she can deal with that? With you? Don't you think she loves you enough to help you?"

"She won't love me anymore when she realises what I've become..."

"Your dark thoughts won't be enough to drive her away. Let her help you, she's stronger than you think, she's not afraid of those things."

"She should be!"

"And what are you going to do? Leave her? Alone with your child? You want to break her heart?"

"She can recover from a broken heart..."

James gave a scornful laugh; it was obvious he found me pathetic.

"You swore to love her mate," he simply observed.

"And what do you know about love, hey?" I raised my voice, hurt that my best friend would not try to understand me.

"I know enough..."

"Oh yes? What do you know about loving someone you don't deserve, knowing you should disappear from their life, and being incapable to do so because they're the only thing you have, the only reason you're still alive? What do you know about that James?"

"I know I would not leave her," he replied as he leant back in his chair, looking at me in the eyes, as if defying me.

He had never been scared to tell me what he really thought, even if he knew I would not like it. It was what I liked about him, why I had always seen him as a true friend. Maybe he was right. I was probably being stupid. I would never leave her, I would never hurt her like that, I loved her way too much, but I was scared to hurt her by staying with her.

I could feel James's eyes on me but I said nothing, I simply lit a cigarette and let a heavy silence settle between us as I held his gaze. I did not know if he had a hidden meaning in his words. Was it a kind of warning or a joke? Something he had said to shake me up.

"I don't think you're the right person to teach me about love, you've never loved anyone," I added, completely detached. I wanted to roast him, as we used to do back in Duxford. It was our game, unless this time, he did not laugh, he only forced a smile, as if I had touched a sore point. Maybe I had; maybe I had tried to be mean.

As if to ease the palpable tension in the room, Tomas started whining, probably tired of playing on his own. I looked at him, extending his arms in our direction, and I got up to join him and take him in my arms in order to discover what this fuss was all about. I wanted to do my best as a father, but as soon as I held him, his whining transformed into a loud crying, for no apparent reason, leaving me completely confused.

James, who had surprisingly shown no interest in the situation, finally joined me, but it was only to snatch the cigarette out of my mouth.

"Don't put that in his face," he almost scolded me, but I ignored him, my attention being entirely focused on Tomas who did not seem to want to calm down.

"What's going on?" I asked him, as if he would give me the answer I needed, but he obviously kept crying.

I bounced him in my arms and rubbed his head, trying my best to soothe him, but I had no idea what I was doing. The more he cried, the more I felt useless and lost, and his crying intensified with each of my movements, to the point I lost my patience.

"Fucking hell! What does he want?" I exclaimed as I turned to James, looking for answers.

"Watch your words!"

"I don't fucking know what to do!" I panicked, alarmed by Tomas's reaction, scared that I was missing something important or had done something wrong.

"Just relax," James advised. "He can feel you're tense."

"I'm relaxed," I denied.

"Look, he has done that before. Just do what I say. Relax," he tried to help, but his tone of voice, him pretending to know better than me how to deal with my son, added to the fact that the screaming was becoming unbearable, made me reach my limits.

"You know everything, don't you? You always know everything!" I spat in his face as I forced him to take Tomas. He was not my instructor anymore, he had to stop behaving like he had to teach me what to do; but if he knew so much, I would wait for him to prove me he was right and I was wrong. He could show me he was doing a better job, but to my dismay, Tomas calmed down almost immediately after he left my arms, and he suddenly had no eyes for me. It was his attention he had wanted from the beginning, it was his arms he had asked for, not mine. The vision of him nestling his head against James's chest was like a stab in the heart.

"Fuck it!" I swore as I angrily left the room, ignoring James's apologising look. There wasn't a better way to let me know I was the problem.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


The photograph of Freya's mother set on the mantelpiece, next to my grandfather, and our wedding portrait, the wreath of dried flowers hung above the mirror, books and plants pilled everywhere, thick, opaque curtains framing the windows as a remainder of the imposed black-out; nothing had changed during my absence, everything was the same, and yet, I felt out of place.

"He's finally asleep," she announced with a sigh of relief as she entered the living room. She had come to the conclusion that she now had to let me know of her presence after the last incident; she knew she should not take me by surprise.

I could hear her approach as I kept looking through the window, observing people walking by and cars passing in our street, and I shivered when she wrapped her arms around me, pressing her chest to my back, resting her head on my shoulder. This time, I forced myself to enjoy her love, even if the voice in my head kept telling me I did not deserve any of it.

"Just the two of us, finally," she hummed against my back as she spread her hands across my torso to hold me closer. I smiled, I was sure she could feel my heart pumping fast in my chest, so she knew it was still beating for her, she still had this effect on me.

She moved to my side when she became tired of not seeing my face, and she stole my cigarette from my mouth when she got no reaction from me but a look from the corner of my eye.

"You smoke too much, Collins," she declared before drawing on my half-consumed cigarette.

"Bad habit," I agreed, giving her an apologetic smile.

She leant against the window frame, bringing the cigarette to her lips one more time while observing me with her golden eyes. I had never seen her smoke before. In fact, I thought she hated it, because I could still remember the look on her face when she had discovered I had started, and yet, there she was, joining me in my addiction.

"Looks like I have a bad influence on you," I observed. I hoped I was not the reason she had started, even though chances were high.

"Oh, don't worry," she replied as she exhaled a cloud of smoke above her head. "It's very occasional."

She still had that innocent smile of her, the one that made everyone fall for her, and for a moment, I could have thought we were back in Duxford, teasing one another, exchanging meaningful looks and charming smiles, relishing that feeling of knowing we liked each other, enjoying this in-between state where everything was possible.

She left my eyes when she stubbed out her cigarette into the ashtray, but immediately raised them back to me.

"The only thing I'm addicted to is you," she came to whisper in my ear in an overly sensual tone, the warmth of her breath giving me gooseflesh. She was playing with me.

She made a step back, her eyes clearly stating what she had in mind, and her self-confidence was enough to arouse me. I snorted with amusement at the obvious turn that our conversation was taking, but I honestly did not mind. I had been back for days already, and it was the first time we finally had that intimacy we had both longed for, that closeness I had missed with all my heart.

She came closer, her mouth slightly open in expectancy, her eyes fixed in mine to try to decipher my thoughts. I brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear and let my fingers linger on the soft skin of her cheek and trace her jawline. I grazed her lower lip with my thumb, increasing the sexual tension in the air, but reducing the gap between us, pressing her against me. I could feel her body radiate a warm wave of lust when I finally kissed her. Her lips had the sweetness of a summer fruit, her kisses carried a sense of nostalgia and hope. The gentle restraint she first showed gradually gave place to the confident expression of her eagerness, teeth nibbling the flesh of my lips, tongue asking for permission to intensify the exchange. I let her take things in hand. I received her love and I gave her mine as we stumbled across the room like drunken lovers intoxicated with desire.

I wanted her wholly. I could not get enough of her. I wanted to make one with her, never leave her mouth, searching for more contact, more of her lips against my lips, more of her skin against my skin. More of her. With my hands placed on each side of her face, I could feel her give in to the ecstasy of my touch, just like her fingers grazing my skin and her nails scratching the back of my neck brought me back to life. For her, I would surrender, break the wall I had built around me. I would do everything to please her.

In her passion, she knocked a vase off the table, sending it to crash to the floor, but she did not move her attention away from me, she only chuckled against my lips as I laughed with her. We refused to lose what we had. We were each other's priorities, and we did not have time for anything else.

She guided me towards the sofa and I obeyed. I let her unbutton my shirt and run her hands on my body, feel my scars under her fingers. In her eyes, I was still the man she had married, and she almost made me feel like him again; but even if I was not him anymore, I wanted to prove her I would do anything for her. So, when she pushed me on the sofa, I grabbed her wrist to make her fall upon me, and I immediately went for her neck, catching her skin between my teeth, sucking on it to mark my territory, to prove to the world she was mine. I burned to tell her I loved her, that she was the only certainty in my life, but no words were uttered. It was only her moans and my breathing filling the room, our sighs disturbing the crackle of the gramophone playing in the void, having reached the end of the last track without us having paid attention. It was only her body against mine, the warmth of her touch, the sound of her gasping in my ear while I reached her most sensitive spot.

I immediately felt the lack of her when she sat up straight and escaped my touch. She looked at me as if she was falling in love for the first time, and there, before my eyes, towering over me in all her beauty, she was more attractive than ever. She was the embodiment of resilience and forgiveness, of strength, love and loyalty.

Without looking away, she started undoing the buttons of her blouse, slowly, making sure I could enjoy the show, revealing more of her skin, more of her curves for me to admire. Revealing the marks I had left earlier too, as well as other marks from the night before. The vision of these bruises, as stains spoiling the perfection of her milky skin, made my blood run cold. I had done that to her, with my bare hands. Those exact same hands which were praising her just before, had almost killed her, and after that, it was impossible for me to ever touch her.

She did not notice my change of mood right away, and she came back to kiss me, leading my hands towards her body, but her kisses had lost their sweet taste to give me the bitterness of guilt instead.

"No," I muttered against her lips in self-disgust, refusing to reply to the expression of her affection.

Incomprehension had filled her eyes when she tried to kiss me again, but I had nothing to give her, and so I turned my head to avoid her caress.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to force me to look at her, but I could not meet her eyes.

She did not want to believe it was over. She had no reason to.

"I love you," she whispered in my neck before tracing my jawline with provocative kisses to seduce me and get a reaction from me, but the feeling of her lips on my skin felt wrong.

"I want you," she added as one of her hands headed lower on my body.

"I can't," I turned her proposition down, seizing her wrist firmly to drive her away, to her great shock. "I can't do that to you."

I pushed her aside. I was suffocating, I could not stay in her presence. I quickly stood up, put my shirt back on in a hurry, fumbling with the buttons as I tried to hide from her. I was scared she would see the part of me I hated so much.

"Andrew," she implored me as she reached for my hand in a desperate attempt to get me back, but I made a step back and let her fingers hang in the void.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as I increased the distance between us and left without even looking at her, knowing I could not do it without being choked with remorse. Yet, I could hear her muffled cry when I walked through the front door, and it was another reason to hate myself even more.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


He had built a fortress around him and was allowing no one inside, not even me. I felt powerless, incapable to help my own husband, to reassure him and ease his mind. I had no idea of the struggle happening inside of him for he refused to talk about it. I was scared of the things he must have witnessed, the things he had suffered, that had broken him that way. Even though he had returned, a part of him was still missing. He was absent even in his presence. I had observed him sitting for hours on the edge of the bed, his eyes lost in the void, his fists clenched as if fighting something that had invaded his head, something he did not want me to see. He was hiding from me, and I had no idea how to get him back.

I looked at the ashtray filled with cigarette butts and I emptied it in the bin. I had stopped counting the amount he would smoke in a day, I just knew it was too much. I placed the glass dish back on the coffee table and sat on the armchair to check on Tomas who was playing on the carpet. I wished he could have been the remedy, the determining element that would have helped his father get used to his new life, but Andrew would avoid his son just as much as he would avoid me. I had not lost faith though. I refused to give up because I loved him, and so I was hoping he would spend time with us today and have a conversation of more than three words. I hoped he would acknowledge his son's presence.

I was about to go back to the kitchen to check on the food in the oven, when my eyes got caught by light reflecting on an empty glass at the foot of the sofa. I sighed as I picked it up. I knew why it was there. I knew what it had contained. Even though Andrew was not sharing our bed anymore, I knew he was staying up most of the night, sitting on this sofa, fighting his demons, and I would stay awake too, worrying about him, hoping he would change his mind and lie next to me. He had to realise I was not scared of him, but he was convinced he would hurt me one way or another, when it was the fact that he kept me at a distance that broke my heart.

I immediately noticed the sound of the bathroom door opening and I walked quickly to meet Andrew at the entrance of the living room, like a child in need of attention.

"Feeling better?" I asked him as I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, but he placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me in my tracks, and he gave me a heartless kiss on the forehead as he mumbled something that could be interpreted as a yes as well as a no. He withdrew his hand and walked past me, his eyes not even turning to me, without a sweet attention to give me. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me when I saw him put on his shoes without saying a word.

"Where are you going?" I worried.

"Outside. I need a walk," he replied, his eyes still ignoring me.

"But I've cooked! Lunch is ready!"

"I'm not hungry. You don't have to wait for me."

"When will you be back?" I wanted to know despite fearing I would annoy him with my questions.

"I don't know," he sighed. "A couple of hours. I really don't know."

"But I was hoping we could spend the day together," I tried to hide my distress.

"I need to breathe, Freya," he simply stated before he headed to the front door, leaving me speechless.

I observed him walk away, completely dumbstruck, trying to find something to say to make him stay. I opened my mouth in a desperate attempt to get his attention, but Tomas, who had caught sight of his father, called him before I could make a sound. Andrew stopped, hesitant, and for a moment, I thought he would change his mind, but he refused to look at Tomas and left our flat. The door closing to my face, depriving me of my husband, left a sour taste in my mouth and shattered all the confidence I had in things getting better for my family.


	35. I don't want to let you go

They had sent a letter, two weeks after my return. The same letter they would send to every soldier who had been a prisoner of war. "Hey, we know you must be broken because we sent you into that mess, but it's not our fault. We can't really do much, but here, we made that program to help you get used to life after the war. It's called a Civil Resettlement Unit 'cause we don't want you to think you're crazy." I had immediately thrown that piece of bullshit into the trash before Freya could see I had received it. I did not need to adapt to civilian life, I needed to get my life back, the one without the nightmares, without the pain and the self-hatred. I wanted to be able to laugh at my sisters' jokes, listen to my mother's gossips and pretend to care, play football and drink beer with my friends, and spend the night with the girl of my dreams in my arms, all that unspoiled by the thought that I had killed and that I had almost been killed. If only life had stopped. If only it had waited for me, things would have been easier. I might have been able to forget the dreadful things I had witnessed. But things were completely different now, my life was not mine anymore, and the moments I had missed could only be added to the memories of the people I had lost. Yet, I had to move on, but one thing was for sure, doing workshops in the countryside would not help me find peace.

"You might want to consider the idea," James tried to convince me. I had instinctively come to him to unload all the things I couldn't tell Freya. He was the only one who understood that madness.

"I've considered it and came to the conclusion that it would be a waste of time," I gave him a gruff response.

"They made these programs to help guys like you," he insisted.

"Guys like me? You mean insane guys like me? Completely messed up? You can say it."

"I mean guys like us. Traumatized men. I'm no better than you."

"You didn't have to attend one of those, though."

"They weren't in place yet when I came back. Might have been useful," he observed.

"Shut your mouth," I threw my empty pack of cigarettes at him. "You escaped from Germany while I was waiting to be liberated. You're the brave one. I'm the pussy. You're fine."

"Well, you clearly aren't. No offense," he said as he threw the pack back, which I caught before it could hit me.

"None taken," I laughed. I had come to the point I could not even take my life seriously.

"I really think you should give it a chance," he insisted. "They'll know how to help you there... more than I can help you."

"How? You're the one who's been through that shit with me, while they stayed safe in their offices. They sent us to war, to death, for decisions they had made; they let us fight for them while they watched from afar, and now that they see they sacrificed us, they create some kind of program just to say they're doing something for us."

"I know it's fucked up," he sighed.

"Honestly, I don't see how talking about my experience can make me feel better. They can't fucking understand."

"If you don't do it for yourself, do it for her," he was not ready to give up.

"Please, don't bring her into this," I rolled my eyes.

"Alright," he conceded. "But think about it, talk about it with her. It's only four weeks."

I nodded, more to give him what he wanted than to say I would follow his advice. After years away, four weeks should have indeed appeared as nothing, but it seemed like the end of the world to me. I didn't want to leave again. I was scared to lose everything if I was away one more time. Just thinking about it made me sick.

"Do you have something to drink?" I asked as I rubbed my face with discomfort.

"Yeah. Help yourself," he nodded towards the dresser behind me.

I got up and made my way to the dark piece of furniture, something that was probably as old as the flat it had never left. Its imposing mass would take all the space in the kitchen and absorb all the light. That was how I felt sometimes, like a piece of furniture, sucking the light out of life to replace it with darkness.

I opened the door of the top cabinet and analysed the bottles lined up inside, looking for the only alcohol I wanted to drink, the one that made me feel at home. Once I noticed the bottle of Scotch whisky I knew James was keeping there, I took it out, but as I proceeded to close the cabinet, my eyes got caught on photographs stuck on the inside panel of the door. They got my attention for I instantly recognised Freya in them. There was one portrait of her taken in the countryside, probably recent, and another one where she wasn't alone. I detached the latter to have a better look at it and felt like someone was stepping on my heart. She was holding a tiny baby wearing a christening gown in her arms. My son. My own child. She was glowing on that photo, addressing a beaming smile to the camera. She looked so beautiful and radiant. It should have made me feel better, to know she had managed to be happy without me, except on her right was James, standing proudly with his arm wrapped around her waist. One could have thought they formed the perfect couple, the image of happiness. They looked like a family, but it was my family. Not his. With this scene before my eyes, knowing James had kept these photographs away from prying eyes, Bernard's words came back to me; even if I had refused to listen to him or believe him at the time, his voice had now filled my head, and the meaning of his words suddenly made much more sense. He might have been right. My best friend and my wife. Together.

The jingling of glasses put on a table made me focus back on James, and the face of friendship transformed into that of the enemy. I could not trust him anymore. I walked to the table and poured myself a glass of whisky, in silence. I drunk it down in one go as James raised his eyebrows in wonder at my behaviour. To give him the answer he was looking for, I violently pressed the photograph against the table, right under his eyes, and I waited for him to meet my gaze to get the truth out of him.

"Did something happen between the two of you?" I asked directly.

"What do you mean?" he answered, surprised by my sudden aggressive tone.

"Did you and Freya have something while I was away?" I rephrased my question.

"No!" he defended himself.

"Do you love her?"

"Why are you asking me all that because of a photograph?" he tried to avoid my question.

"Answer me," I said quietly, determined to get what I needed to hear from him.

"Mate, what's going on?"

"Do you love her?" I insisted.

"N... listen," he ran his hand across his face, trying to find the courage to say something. "I... I don't want to lie to you."

"You love her," I observed.

"I have... had feelings for her, it's true..."

"Shit!" I swore as I clenched my fist and made a step back, trying to control the frustration that filled me. "Fucking hell!" I was not expecting it to be so painful. I wished he had denied it.

"But she loves you! There's no room for someone else in her heart," he tried to make things better.

"Fuck you! Because if there were room for you, you would have tried something?"

"No! That's not what I meant! I wouldn't have done that to you!" he got up to walk away from me, offended.

"But maybe you did..."

"I didn't do anything but what you asked me to do if something happened to you! You made me promise!"

"I didn't ask you to steal my life!" I shouted at him, finally expressing what had weighed on my heart since my return.

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I'm back and nothing is the same!" I lost it. "My son asks for you as if you were his father. You've witnessed things I will never be able to experience, while it should have been me! Not you! I feel like an intruder in my own life, as if you were the one who should be there instead of me!"

"I'm sorry you feel like that... I know how it is."

"No, you don't! Don't pretend to know how I feel! You don't know how it is to come back home to learn you were dead in the heart of all the people you care about, to discover you left a child behind and that your best friend betrayed you."

I had to force myself not to break something out of rage for my whole mind was now subjected to spite. I did not know what to believe anymore. I had lost all my bearings.

"I didn't betray you! I kept my feelings to myself. I've never tried to be more than a friend to her!"

"She's my wife! You know how much she means to me, you've been there from the beginning, and still, you let yourself get close to her!"

"They told her you were dead! I had to be there for her, but I didn't choose to have feelings for her. It happened that's all. But that's not what I wanted!"

I could have punched him in the face, so angry to know that these last two years, he had been with her, he had loved her while I was rotting in a camp. I felt cheated.

"I don't want you to approach my family ever again! Don't talk to my wife, don't try to see my son! Stay away from them, you understand?" I warned him.

"Come on, mate! You're overreacting! I told you I would never do such thing, you're my brother!"

"Brothers don't stab each other in the back," I said as I let the photograph fall on the table, holding his gaze. Of course, he wanted me to go to that training thing, so he could spend more time with Freya while I was away. He disgusted me. I had nothing else to tell him, I had no respect for him anymore, and so, I turned away and left, slamming the door on our friendship.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


"Freya!" I heard him call as soon as he entered our flat.

"I'm at the back," I informed him as I finished dressing Tomas after he had woken up from his nap.

His steps were loud as he made his way to Tommy's bedroom, and when he appeared, I instantly felt that something was wrong. It was written in his eyes. His manners conveyed a sentiment of unease as he could not stand still, looking everywhere but at me.

"Put him in his bed," he ordered me.

"Why?"

"Put him in his bed, please," he insisted as he ran a hand across his face. His breathing was heavy, his eyes elusive. I could not recognise my husband.

I obeyed. I knew it was not the time to argue, but I feared what would follow.

"Do you love him?" he let out immediately after I turned to him.

"What?" I was completely lost.

"Do you love James? Please tell me the truth!"

"No! I don't! I love you!" I denied, quite shocked by his question.

"Please tell me nothing happened. I couldn't bear it," he pleaded as he took my face in his hands. He was so tense he almost hurt me.

"No, I promise. Nothing happened," I repeated his words as I let my fingers meet his hand, hoping he would relax under my touch. His eyes were darker than usual, I had never seen him so troubled, and I had no idea what to do to help him. To my great surprise, he was the one to engage the kiss, but it was not passionate. It was raw, begging for something from me, as if words weren't enough. He was scared.

"I couldn't bear it," he let me know, resting his forehead against mine, trying to settle his breathing. For a brief moment, he did not try to hide his vulnerability, but as quickly as he had opened to me, he withdrew behind his high walls and left my touch.

"What happened with James?" I asked him, afraid to know the reason of his interrogation.

"Promise me you'll never see him again," he ignored me.

"What do you mean?"

"He's not welcome in this house anymore."

His voice had turned harsh, his body and posture had nothing inviting anymore.

"But why?"

I couldn't believe we had reached that point.

"Why? You perfectly know why! You know he loves you!" he gave me the answer I didn't want to hear.

"And I know I love you," I reassured him. He had no reason to be scared, no reason to doubt me. I was his.

"Please, Freya. Promise me..."

"But what about Tomas? He's his godfather. He loves him."

"I know," he raised his voice. "He loves him so much I sometimes wonder who the father really is!"

"Don't say that!"

"What? I just say what everyone else is thinking."

"Is it really what you think?" I asked, hurt by his words.

"Did you really want me to come back? Or maybe you were happy with him by your side? Maybe you would have preferred me dead!" he thundered, anger having filled his eyes.

"Stop that now. You're being unfair, and mean!" I raised my voice too.

"And what? I'm mean because I ask questions?"

"Because you ask the wrong questions! You don't trust me!"

"How am I supposed to trust you when I come back to that? To discover my best friend, who's been with you these last years, loves you? I don't know what happened during those two years. I don't know what he did, what he tried with you. I have no fucking idea if you were ready to replace me," he yelled at me, his voice frightening Tomas who started crying, adding to the chaos of the scene, worsening the situation.

"You've got to believe me. Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know. Why would I believe you?"

"Please, stop shouting now, you're scaring him," I tried to reason with him as I looked at Tomas who was in tears.

"I don't care! He's always scared of me anyway! What does that change?" he refused to cooperate. "Now tell me why I should believe you?"

"Because I'm your wife! Because when I was faced with the same questions when I met your Victoria, I chose to believe you because I know you!"

"Victoria?" he asked, genuinely unsettled by the mention of that name.

"Yeah, your girlfriend from home! Remember her?"

He gave a nervous laugh and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Are we seriously talking about a girl that I kissed when I was a teenager?"

"Yes! Yes, we are! Because you're making a huge deal of something that shouldn't matter! You've to trust me like I trust you, because we're married!"

"Maybe it was a mistake..." he said very naturally, as if he did not realise the meaning of his words.

"What?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have married. Maybe we're not meant for each other."

"How dare you say that?" I felt tears burn my eyes.

"Everything went too quickly. All this. Us. Living together. Tomas. We weren't ready."

"We?" I said in a trembling voice. "I was ready! I don't regret any of it! Do I have to remind you that you were the one who wanted to have a child!"

"But not like that!"

"Well, I'm sorry he's not the child you wanted! We're not the family you wanted!" I yelled at him as angry tears started trickling down my cheeks. "And if you regret your engagement, then I don't want to see you here!"

"Get out! Now!" I pushed him out of the room before he could say anything. "You don't want my love, you don't want my help, you think we were a mistake? Then go, erase that mistake. Start over!"

He probably did not expect me to react like that, but he did not fight me back. He didn't go back on his words. There was no apology in his eyes, they were just shut off. The reaction I was expecting never came. He didn't argue and he left. It took me all my strength to look at him walk away and slam the door on us, and only when the sound of his steps in the staircase faded away, only then did I allow myself to move. I dried my tears and went back to my son to kneel before him and give him a forced smile I wanted to be reassuring, but it was distorted by the overwhelming pain that I now suffered. I wanted to disappear, cry until I could feel nothing, but I had to stay strong for him.   
  
  


*****   
  
  


The streets of London were almost empty on that early evening, everybody refusing to step outside into the heavy rain that had started pouring in the afternoon; everyone but some lonely souls sheltered under their umbrella or hurrying to the closest underground station. And me, completely drenched, but with nowhere to go. I had been wandering in the streets at random, trying to forget what I had done, but I kept seeing the expression of pain on her face, I could hear me pronounce those ugly words to her. I had pronounced them, knowing I would hurt her, it was the point. I was suffering and I didn't want to be the only one, I didn't want to be alone. I had succeeded, I had hurt her. I had broken her heart, but she would recover from it. She had to realise she couldn't love me if she wanted to be happy. I was good for no one, not even for myself. I was lost, I had no idea how to feel better, and all I could see was that the burden I had brought back with me, the one I could not get rid of, was weighing on my shoulders, and on that of the people who were trying to help me.

It was the reason I didn't want their help. The best thing I could do to protect them was to reject them, to scare them away. And because I knew they would refuse to listen to me if I tried to explain it to them, I had found hurting them to be the only solution left. I was conscious that it was wrong, but I was just making bad decisions on bad decisions. I would try to convince myself that I could get better, but the anger I had inside of me would just become too much to handle, and I refused to let anyone suffer the consequences any longer. And so, I was torn between the love I felt for her, the unconditional affection I had kept for her in my heart, and the disgusting jealousy, the frustration and rancour I experienced when I thought that she had continued her life without me, which I felt like an injustice. I knew these feelings were not justified, my reactions were disproportionate, but nobody could understand what I was going through, and I remained lonely, even when surrounded.

Once back, people had expected me to dive right in, as if I could resume my life as it was before, but the truth was that it was impossible. I had tried, made the effort, but it was impossible. I could not ignore the scars on my body, or the pain that came back when I least expected it and prevented me from using my arm correctly. I could not give Freya the love she wanted, I couldn't touch her and kiss her without thinking that I had failed her. I couldn't hold her without thinking I could break her. And I couldn't watch James without fearing the worst and being overwhelmed with horrible thoughts of what could have happened during my absence. Even if I knew him, and I knew her. Even if I knew they would not do that, those irrational thoughts would always win, because I was scared he was more to her now than I used to be.

Somehow, my feet had taken me to the river, and I stopped on the bridge to look at the dark water flowing below me. I rested my forearms on the railing and observed the eddies forming around the pillars and the raindrops breaking the evenness of the surface. I imagined what it would be to jump into that darkness. Would the water swallow me? Would I disappear to never come back? Would it be better for everyone? It was the same questions over and over again, the same obsessive thoughts that I tried to silence in vain. Fighting them was exhausting for they would never completely leave me.

There was no escape from that past, no salvation. It would be with me for the rest of my life. This feeling of suffocation would never go away. The impression of constantly drowning, swimming and fighting to reach the surface, but seeing it draw away instead. I just wanted to get my life back, all the good things I had before the war stole them from me. I needed to laugh for the silliest things with Freya again, and I wanted to become the father Tomas deserved. Yet, all I could see when looking at him was all the things I had missed; I hadn't felt him kick in his mother's womb, I had not witnessed him come to life, nor seen him grow up. I had missed his first steps, his first words, his first smile, all the defining moments of his early life, and now I had to come into his life and pretend all these things did not matter, that I could do without them, but the truth was I was scared he would not love me, that the fondness I started to have for him would not be received properly.

I could cry, nobody would notice for I was completely drenched, but I refused to. I raised my eyes to the sky, welcoming the raindrops against my skin, hoping it would erase all my problems, make me someone new. Water was dripping down my face, blurring my vision. My soaked clothes were stuck to my skin and my wet hair falling before my eyes. I was probably a poor spectacle to see, and yet, nobody paid attention to me. I could have just been pulled out from the sea, it would have been the same, except this time I was not wearing my RAF uniform, no one was there to help me, and I was not relieved to be alive.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I pushed the front door of our flat with apprehension, not knowing if she would be there and if she would let me in, but it was her father I met in the entrance, and he seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Is she here?" I asked something first.

"No, she's out, looking for you. But she should be back soon, she's left a while ago already," he let me know.

I said nothing. I felt ashamed, guilty to put her through that.

"Come on, son. You look like you're freezing. Got put on dry clothes before you fall sick," he invited me to go to my bedroom. "I'll pour us a drink, something to pick you up."

"I think I've had enough of that for today," I informed him.

"I'll make tea then. It will warm you up," he added as he left for the kitchen.

As I entered my bedroom, I get rid of my dripping wet shirt which had turned into a second skin and shivered in the cool air. Everything seemed bleak when she was not there. She was the one who brought warmth into our home, and I had suppressed it. Without her, life was worthless.

I opened the wardrobe to grab the first thing I would find, but my eyes stopped on my uniform, that I had stored there since my return, hidden from my sight. It had been my biggest pride. I could remember parading around my parents' house the first time I wore it. I felt unstoppable. But the boy I was that day had no idea of the consequences that would arise from taking the responsibilities that went with it. He didn't know it would bring out the best and worst things in his life.

I looked away, refusing to think about a time that was now over, and I grabbed a jumper and a pair of trousers at random before closing the door abruptly. I undid the button of my soaked trousers and let them hit the floor with a thump. I took off all my clothes and didn't bother to dry myself before putting on the clean ones. I didn't check myself in the mirror and left to the kitchen where George and Tomas were waiting for me.

"Sit down, son," the man told me as he approached with a cup of tea that he put before me on the table. He pressed a firm, consoling hand on my shoulder before sitting in front of me.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I looked at my cup as I stirred its content with a spoon, focusing on the whirl I was creating, unable to remain still.

"Empty..." I finally admitted as I observed Tomas who was playing on his own, not paying attention to us.

"It's okay. You've been through a lot. You need time to adjust. Returning to normal life after what happened to you, it's hard, but you're surrounded. We're here to support you."

"It's probably not worth it. I'm not sure there is something to save about me," I almost whispered as I wrapped my hands around the cup of tea, letting the warmth of the porcelain burn my palms.

"You might think, what does this old fool know about what I went through, but I know a bit. I can get how you feel. I've fought a war too. I've dedicated my life to the cause, I've asserted myself through that, and when it was over, when I had no fight to win anymore, I felt like I did not know who I was, that I had lost myself somewhere along the way," he put words on what I had been feeling for days, the feelings that had choked me for so long.

"All I know is that I'm not the same person anymore."

"I get that. But the Andrew I met the first time my daughter introduced him as her boyfriend, he's still there, inside of you," he reached across the table to press his finger to my chest. "I can see that. Freya too. She knows who you are."

"But how can she help me if she doesn't know what I've been through? Nobody knows. Nobody can understand."

"She needs you to let her in. You can't push people away. You need their help."

"But I don't want her to know those things... I don't want her to share my burden."

"She's your wife for a reason. That's what marriage is about. You don't have to go through that alone."

"Did she tell you what I did to her? What I told her? It's not working anymore. Too many things happened. We were separated for too long..." I let out, ashamed to have harmed the daughter of the man sitting in front of me, the one who had made me promise never to hurt his child.

"You know it's not her fault. It's not Tomas's fault either. But most importantly, it's not your fault," he did not answer my questions, he didn't have to. Instead, he pronounced what I had no idea I needed to hear.

"The way you feel, the way you react. It's not your fault. But you can't let them win!"

"They've already won. They stole my life from me," I didn't believe things could get better.

"You've to take your life back, son. You've got to do that for you, and your family."

I looked down and observed a drop of water fall from my hair to crash on the wooden table. I didn't know what to say, I could only feel that weight on my heart getting bigger. He was right, but I somehow refused to acknowledge it. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for a reaction, a sign that I was listening, but I would disappoint him. I had nothing to say.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him fumble in his pocket to get a paper, which he unfolded before flattening it on the table so I could see it.

"She gave me this earlier," he said, observing my response. I had recognised the letter I had thrown away in the morning. I looked away, knowing what the rest of the conversation would be about, and I had no desire to discuss that topic.

"Listen," he started carefully. "She didn't ask me to talk to you about that. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I'm just an old soldier talking to a young one, okay?"

I relaxed a bit in my chair and agreed to listen to him. I respected him. He had always treated me fairly. Although he had that something intimidating about him, because he was my father-in-law, he was wise, understanding and the type of man you felt comfortable speaking to, so, I didn't try to leave and I focused my attention back to him.

"People who stayed here at home, they can't understand what it was like to be on the battlefield. They'll never understand what you've been through, even the closest people in your life, even if they try, they won't even get the slightest idea of how you must feel. I experienced that, the feeling of loneliness, of being misunderstood, the nightmares. I know it all. But you've got something I didn't have at the time. They're acknowledging your suffering. You can get help and try to get your life back."

"You've got everything to be happy. You've got to take that chance before it's too late. My daughter will never leave your side; I know that for a fact. She loves you very much and I know you love her too. You've revealed something in her that I had never seen before. She's still there. You could have lost her, we all could have lost her that day, when she gave birth to our Tommy. We could have lost both, but we still have them in our lives and we're lucky. You've got to make the most of that, enjoy your time with your family, fight for them and for you, because you deserve to be happy together."

I looked down as I felt my eyes fill with tears, hoping George would not notice it. I had learnt through my sisters that Freya had had a complicated delivery, that both her and our son had looked death in the eye. I could have come back to an empty home, grieve for a wife I had left too early and for a son I would have never known. It made me feel even worse about it, knowing I had not been there to support her and share her pain. She had never told me about her suffering, but I could just imagine how she had struggled, and how she was still struggling today because of me.

"So, take that opportunity. There is nothing to be ashamed of; nothing wrong about asking for help. It doesn't make you weak or worthless. It gets some strength to acknowledge you can't do it alone."

I ran a hand across my face, letting his words sink in.

"I'll let you rest now, you must need it," he said as he got up. As he walked past me, he squeezed my shoulder as if to remind me he was there for me.

"You'll get better, son," he declared before ruffling my hair in a comforting fatherly way. "Take care of yourself, will you? And take care of my daughter too."

And with that, he left me with my thoughts, his words echoing in my mind, and when I looked at Tomas, so innocent in his chair, I knew he was right. I was lucky to have a family.  
  
  


*****   
  
  


I went back home with a lump in my throat, and an overwhelming feeling of defeat. I had not managed to find Andrew. I had looked everywhere, asked James, his parents, his sisters, visited the local pubs, the parks... but nobody had seen him, and I felt terribly guilty knowing I was the one who had told him to leave. I had been so stupid to take it that way and not try to be wiser, remember he needed help. I was scared, I just wanted him back, I needed to know he was okay and not alone. He could not be alone, not considering his state.

It was getting darker outside, and the rain had not decided to stop, as if the world was against us, reminding me how cruel life could be. I felt like standing alone against the universe, unnoticed, unheard; and that feeling of loneliness was only increased by the silence that filled our flat. It should have warned me as soon as I had stepped in, but my mind was elsewhere and I only noticed it later that my father's jacket was not hung in the entrance anymore, and that his hat was not on the table where he had put it.

My heart skipped a beat. He was supposed to look after Tomas. I had asked him to stay with my son, so if he was not there, it meant something had happened. Maybe something bad. Or it meant someone else was home. Fuelled by hope, I hurried to the back of the flat, where I finally saw light coming out of our room, and when I caught sight of them, I held back a sob, deeply moved by the scene unfolding before my eyes. Andrew had taken him to our room and they were both asleep in our bed; my husband settled against the headboard, his eyes closed and his features finally relaxed. A children's book was open at his side, and my son was nestled in his arms, sleeping against his chest. There, both sound asleep, they formed the picture I had always wanted to see since I had known I was pregnant. It was the dream I had secretly kept to help me go on when Andrew had been missing. The hope I had nurtured when he had come back home. And there, unexpectedly, my wish had been fulfilled. The two most important people in my life had tamed one another. After weeks of ups and downs, of worries and struggles, the dark clouds had dispersed to let a patch of blue sky appear, and yet, I hurt.

That feeling of relief was stifled by all the fears, wounds and concerns I had repressed and that now overwhelmed me, taking advantage of my weakness, the fact that I had finally lowered my defences. I turned around and ran away, finding refuge in the kitchen, where I could let my tears run freely. We had told the worst things to each other that day, things we had immediately regretted but that we would never forget. War was vicious, it changed people forever and damaged the souls. It continued even when it was over, creeping into the lives of soldiers and their families, driving them apart. I had no idea how to behave with my husband anymore. I couldn't predict what his mood would be from one minute to the other, and even if I knew it wasn't his fault, I selfishly hoped he would try to get better.

His tall frame appearing at the door startled me and I instantly turned my back to him to hide my swollen, reddened face. I didn't want him to feel responsible for my tears. I shouldn't have been surprised to see him there, he had become a very light sleeper. I should have been surprised that I had not woken him up earlier instead.

He approached me, slowly, carefully, not knowing if I wanted to see him, and I cowered, for fear I would fall into pieces the moment he would touch me.

"Come here," he implored me, his voice cracked with remorse, but I couldn't move. The sound of his voice only triggered a sob in response.

"Come here," he repeated as he delicately reached for me to draw me in his arms, crushed to see me so sad.

He wrapped me in his embrace, pressing me so close to him, and I dissolved in tears the moment I smell his perfume. I clung to his jumper and buried my face in his chest as I could not control the sobs shaking my body nor the tears dampening his clothes.

"I'm sorry," he stroked my hair before pressing his cheek to the top of my head. "I know I've been saying sorry a lot lately, as if it's the only word I know, but I truly am sorry. I didn't mean what I told you. Marrying you was the best decision I could have ever made. You're the best thing in my life. When held captive in that camp, all I could think about was you. It was only you and it's always been you. You're the reason I'm here today, love."

It was the first time since his returned that he greeted me with a sweet name, that he didn't call me Freya, as if he didn't know me. It was him I had with me at that moment, my husband, not the stranger.

"You need to let me in," I finally managed to utter something. "I'm here for you. I'm your wife."

"I know," he sighed as he tightened his embrace.

"Whether you like it or not," I added on a more playful tone to let him know I was not mad.

"Well, I should be the one to say that," he snorted. "You're the one who's to deal with me."

"Yeah, then let me deal with you. Let me help you."

"I will. It's just... I wanted to protect you from all this."

"You don't have to... I can see it consumes you, and I don't want to lose you a second time," I whispered against his chest.

"I know. I promise I'll do everything I can to feel better. I don't want to lose you either. I'll be a better husband. And a better father. I want to be there for our son. I want you both to be happy," he confessed in a low voice before he kissed the top of my head, burying his face in my hair as if to reassure himself. I could hear his heart beating fast in his chest. I knew he was scared, and I knew it had asked for a lot of strength for him to lay himself bare in front of me, to acknowledge he was not the invincible soldier he had convinced himself he was during the war in order not to lose his mind. He had learnt to never show his weaknesses.

"I'll do it, love. I'll go there. I'll seek help."


	36. A new start

The day he had left had been really hard. I had thought I would never have to say goodbye to him ever again, but life was not kind, and I had had to let him go one more time.

He had refused to let me walk to the train station with him. He had said that it reminded him too much of the times he had to go back to war and pray it would not be the last time he would see me, and that he would not be able to ignore the pain it had caused us. This time, he already knew when he would come back to me and so, he said it was different. He was not going to fight, at least not a real enemy. There was no need to cry, he had told me, for he would not disappear this time. He promised.

He had hugged me for a while nonetheless, so tightly, his chest against mine, his fingers playing with my hair. He had something to say, something he hesitated to share because he was still not at ease with the idea to appear vulnerable, for fear he would crumble if he revealed even just one of the cracks caused by the war.

He had remained silent, not that it meant he was not sad to leave. I had got used to his silences and learnt to interpret them. All those words he kept for himself, those emotions he did not express verbally, he conveyed them physically, in gestures. His fingers pulling on my cardigan to draw me towards him, his eyes never looking away, always fixed on me. His deep, slow breaths in my ear that gave me the reassuring feeling I needed. His arms, loosening around me before he tightened his embrace again, showing he wanted to stay like that a little longer. It was enough to prove me of his affection. I knew he loved me and cared about his family. I knew it in the way he had kissed me tenderly, truly, until he had no choice but to leave me. I knew it when I had seen him kiss Tommy's cheek without restraint, his hand holding his small head as a father would do to make sure he would not hurt his child.

Then he was gone.

The moment his cab had turned at the end of the street, I had been choked with a terrible feeling of emptiness, one I knew just too well, and it had not left me since. I knew it would never vanish until he would come back. I would have to deal with it until then.

He would be gone for an entire month, and he had asked everyone not to visit him during his first two weeks at the centre. He wanted to be sure to focus on his health, and even if he had reckoned it would be tough, he was also conscious that healing required time and sacrifices, even more when it came to the mind.

I respected his wish, but those two weeks were the longest weeks I had ever had to go through in my life. Every minute spent in our flat without him felt like an hour, for even if our last memories together in this place had not been the most joyous ones, he was my soulmate, and it was only when he was by my side that I felt complete.

I had no idea how I had managed to spend so much time without him before, how I had survived his absence without dying of a broken heart. I would try my best to think about something else; fulfil my role of a mother, work all my shifts at the pub, spend time with Eden, immerse myself in my books ... but every time, my thoughts took me back to him. I would put on his old shirt every night to go to bed, tugging on the sleeves and pressing the fabric to my nose just to be able to smell his perfume. He was always on my mind, and I spent every minute of my day hoping he was fine there, worrying, until I finally received news from him.

" _My darling Freya,_

_It feels weird to write to you after such a long time. The last time I wrote you a letter, it was to tell you I was alive and I would make it home to you, but it never reached you, and I made it home years later..._

_This time, you can be sure I'll get back to you and for good. I never want to leave your side ever again._

_I hope you're doing well and that my mother is helping you with Tomas._

_If you're wondering, I'm doing fine here. I can talk to someone about my nightmares and the memories that haunt me. I think it helps. And it's easier to talk about those things with someone I don't know. There is no pity in his eyes. It feels like I can share everything with him without the fear that it would break him too. He can go home and let everything behind him. I wish I could too._

_The other soldiers are rather interesting to be around. I've made a couple of friends to pass the time, and I have reunited with one of my mates from Germany. I'd rather be with you, but be comforted by the thought that I'm not alone._

_Every time I'm free, and if the weather allows it, I take a walk in the countryside. It makes me feel better. Nature is a good medicine. War has left no trace around there, so it helps me think about something else, like how I want to bring you to Scotland with me one day. You and our son. As I had promised you._

_For now, I walk through the woods and I spend some time at my favourite spot, along the river. I'll bring you there when you come to visit me. I want you to see it._

_Promise me you'll come next weekend. I'm longing for you._

_I love you, always._

_Your pilot._ "

*****

I was kept busy the whole week, with individual sessions, group talks to share our trauma and workshops to help us find a path to follow, a way to earn a living now that war was behind us, but I had no real desire to say goodbye to the RAF. Flying was the only thing I was good at, I could not give it up. I attended all of these meetings nonetheless. Every day.

We had busy, tiring weeks which would lead to long, free weekends when we would be allowed to do whatever we wanted. And this one, I had been looking forward to it because Freya was supposed to come and visit me. This time, I had joined the rest of the group heading to the train station not only to pass time, but to wait for my wife too. We were all excited to reunite with our loved ones and very curious to discover the people we had heard so much about in the course of a few days. All my friends wanted to meet Freya because of the way I had described her to them. I only had nice things to say about her, and they probably doubted my judgement.

Among the men of my age attending the program, I was one of the few lucky chaps to have found love and married during wartime, and for whom it had last. Others had spent five years or more of their young lives fighting, just like me, being trapped far from home, only to come back and find that the girl they had kept in their heart had married someone else during their absence. Of all the adverse effects of war, loneliness was the worst.

But we were the lucky ones, and we had arrived at the train station way too early, in anticipation of reuniting with our relatives. We had settled outside the pub opposite the station, some of us already drinking beer in that late morning, other having a coffee, or like me, smoking. I was slightly nervous, always checking the clock above the entrance of the building to be sure I would not miss her, even though I had no idea if she had caught the next train. Rather than emptying my pack of cigarettes in one go, I decided to listen to Derek talking about the time he had almost accidentally killed his father-in-law while hunting. Derek was probably the funniest of us all, always a story to tell, to remind us that our lives could always be worse. With his legendary bad luck, it was a surprise he had managed to make it home alive. His constant good mood had helped me go through our time as prisoners. I would miss the friends I had made along the way, from the first day I had joined Duxford and met my new teammates, some that would even become like family, to the lads doing this program with me, without forgetting the men I had led as a squadron leader. They had all played a decisive part in my life during the war.

"Check that out. Someone is looking a bit lost over there, and she's a vision of delight!" one guy said.

"Isn't she your bird Collins?" Derek elbowed me, forcing me to look at the girl they were talking about.

She was standing on the sidewalk across the street, just before the entrance of the station, a basket placed at her feet. Her light, bright dress was fluttering in the summer breeze. She had tied a scarf in her hair, put on red lipstick, and even if her eyes were hiding behind sunglasses, I knew she was looking my way.

I smiled, like one would smile when discovering that the girl they had asked out had turned up for their first date. She was there, ready to spend the day with me, but way too shy to cross the street to join me and my friends.

I left the wall against which I was leaning to walk in her direction, throwing my cigarette in the street, ignoring the comments the other guys were making about her.

When I reached her, I didn't even let her say hi that I was already kissing her, eagerly, lovingly, too happy to see her there, to know she had come all the way for me.

She seemed a bit surprised, but quickly, her hands found their place on each side of my face, and she responded to my display of affection.

"Morning," I said as I left her lips, admiring her, always in awe when faced by her singular beauty.

"Good morning, husband," she said as her fingers lingered on my skin.

"Let me see your beautiful eyes," I told her. "Don't hide away from me."

She removed her glasses and stared at me with a kindness I had never found in someone else. I kissed her again and I tightened my embrace around her to lift her up in my arms. She giggled when her feet left the ground. She would never make me feel unloved.

"Wait," she said when I finally put her down. "You've got some lipstick there."

She used her thumb to delicately wipe the makeup from my lower lip, and I could not help but smile under her touch.

"You look good," she observed as her eyes scanned every detail of my face.

"I'm happy to see you," I simply answered. It was true, she was the only reason for my happiness.

She said nothing. It was what she wanted to hear and what I wanted to say. I had counted down the days until this moment, and I wished I had asked her to visit earlier, even if the joy I felt as I was finally reunited with her was worth all the wait.

I could have kissed her again, driven by the way she was looking at me, if it was not for Derek ruining it all with his comments.

"Okay, we got it guys! You're in love! Spare us the details!" he yelled from across the street.

I raised my eyes to the sky and laughed.

"Don't be jealous, mate!" I chaffed him.

"Well, of course, I'm jealous," he continued as I grabbed the picnic basket she had packed and walked his way, gently pulling Freya by the hand to invite her to follow me. "You got the best girl for yourself."

"Mate, you were not lying when you said she was a true beauty!" another added, causing Freya to look down at her feet. She was not used to the bluntness of soldiers anymore.

"Maybe too beautiful for you Collins!" they laughed.

"What does she find you? Your perfect blond hair? Your disgustingly clear blue eyes? Your charming smile?" they enjoyed teasing me in front of her.

"Shut up!" I laughed before wrapping my arm around Freya's waist to remind them that despite their jokes, she was well and truly my wife. "Don't listen to them," I whispered in her ear.

"Tell us sweetheart, what do you find him?" Derek ignored me.

"Leave her alone," I asked him to stop in a friendly way, fearing Freya would feel uncomfortable as she was not familiar with that kind of humour.

"If you ever get tired of him darling, I just wanted you to know that I'm blood related to the Royal family."

"Don't you have a wife mate?" I kindly reminded him not to overstep the mark. Between Freya and me, I was probably the one who felt the most uncomfortable.

"First of all, it's Mrs Collins," she gave Derek an answer, but maybe not the one he expected from her. "And thank you, but you're not really my type, royalty or not. I appreciate the offer, but I'm perfectly happy with my husband."

He was surprised by her wit and said nothing, but I could not help laughing with the other men around, impressed by my wife and also quite pleased with her words, I had to be honest.

"I told you to leave her alone," I made fun of him.

"Right. I get why you guys are together now," he laughed with me.

*****

I could not stop talking. I probably annoyed her, but I had so many things to tell her. Details about what my days had looked like for the previous two weeks, or about my colleagues, as I'd like to call them. I knew everything about them, how many brothers and sisters they had, if they were married, where they had grown up, what they had done during the war... I would tell her everything about them, even if she did not care much. I had to talk, or else she would. I was scared that if silence settled between us, she would ask me how I felt, and I would not know what to answer.

I gave her what she wanted to see. A happier Andrew. I was happier. I did not force myself to tell jokes, to laugh with her and smile, to search for her hand and hold it. I did not want to leave her side, I felt good with her, but I still had that hidden sensation deep inside of me, that feeling that something was wrong with me; that things would never be the same.

"Careful," I told her as I helped her down a narrow path to reach a grassy area along the river.

"Here," I announced as I finally put the basket down. "That's where I wanted to bring you."

"It's so peaceful!" she observed as she took notice of her surroundings; the imposing willow trees with their branches brushing the surface of the water, the smooth rocks lining the bank and the old bridge crossing the river in the distance. The heat was stifling on that day, but thankfully, the white water brought some freshness into the air and the sun reflecting on its surface made it very appealing.

I took off my shirt almost immediately, only to keep my white tank top on, glad to get rid of an unnecessary layer of clothing. I smiled when I found her looking at me. She had not lost one second of it.

"Let's have a quick dip before we eat," she suggested and started unbuttoning her dress.

"Now?" I asked, confused at seeing her undress so quickly.

"Yes! C'mon!" she encouraged me.

"But you didn't bring your swimsuit!" I argued.

"This will do," she rejected my argument and presented herself in her underwear in front of my eyes, a simple satin dress lined with lace. "Come on! Let's go!"

"Maybe we can do this later," I tried to make her change her mind.

"Now is perfect! Get rid of your clothes and join me!" she said as she was already making her way to the river.

"And don't be shy, there's nobody to look at you but me," she laughed, probably thinking my reluctance was due to some modesty.

She entered the fresh water without hesitation and disappeared completely within seconds. When she reached the surface and looked at me, I was still standing at the edge of water with my clothes on. I could not go in. I could not enjoy something as simple as swimming in the river with my wife. I was petrified just thinking about it.

"Please, don't go too far love," I asked her nervously.

"You alright?" she asked, concerned by my obvious change of mood.

"Yeah!" I tried to pretend it was nothing, but finally decided to be honest. "It's just, uh... Water. I don't really feel at ease in water."

I did not have to say more, she knew the reason behind it.

"I'm coming," she said and got out of water.

I felt like a spoilsport, forcing her to give up on what she wanted to do. I did not want to be that kind of person, but I could not help but think that if something happened to her, if she found herself in difficulty in the middle of the river, I would not be able to help her. I had no idea if I could overcome my fear and save her.

"Sorry," she apologised as she wrung the soaked piece of clothing between her fingers, drawing my attention to her body. The transparent fabric was now stuck to her skin, as a slough that she would get rid of to reveal her real beauty, even though I did not have to use much of my imagination to know what she looked like without it, as all of her curves were accentuated for my eyes to enjoy.

"It's alright," I said as I looked away and cleared my throat. I could not give in, and so I focused my eyes everywhere around me but on her.

"What are you doing?" she wondered at my strange behaviour.

"I'm making sure that no one is around, 'cause that vision of you is scandalous ma'am!" I told her as I looked back at her, letting my eyes glide over her figure, biting my lips to repress a smile.

"Don't look at me like that!" she reprehended me with a laugh.

"I'm sorry love, but I can't really look away," I joked. "You're all I can see."

"Well, at least I hope you enjoy it," she approached me, water still dripping down her body, drops of water catching the sun and making her glisten in the light.

"Trust me, I love it. I just wish I could prove you how much," I teased her.

"You could maybe give me a taste of it," she followed in my way, pressing her body against mine, inviting my hands to settle on the small of her back. Her skin was so fresh, it felt like I was burning in comparison.

She was a stunning sight and she knew it. She was in power and she loved seeing me look at her that way, as much as I loved seeing her so confident.

I let her kiss me and tried to control the overwhelming desire I felt for her, for it was nor the moment nor the place to go wild. I wished I had taken her to a local inn like every soldier did when visited with their girl, instead of playing the romantic card of the walk in the countryside, but I had waited two years, I could wait two more weeks, although the feeling of her wet body against mine proved to be very hard to resist.

*****

Spots of light were dancing on our skin as the branches moved by the breeze filtered the sun, the willow protecting our bodies from the heat. It felt like we were back at the beginning of our relationship, learning to know each other, when nothing mattered but us. The hours spent together were just as precious, the moment to separate just as dreadful.

My heart felt lighter though, for I knew this time he would not leave me to fight and risk his life for a cause he had not chosen. Like most men, he had volunteered because it was the right thing to do, because he believed he had to defend his country and that everything would be settled quickly. And like most men, he had realised his whole existence was now reduced to this conflict. He, who had joined the RAF as an independent young man with nothing to lose and nothing to stop him from doing his duty, had encountered love along the way. In a brief moment, because of a pair of eyes he had met, everything had changed. He had too much to lose, he had a life he wanted to live to the most, but he also had a never-ending war to fight; and so, he had sacrificed his dreams to bring peace to his land.

I was heedful that he would never be the exact same Andrew I had met in Duxford, the one who would look at me instead of listening to his instructor, the one who would sneak into my bedroom, careful not to wake up my father, just to be able to spend one last night with me before his departure, the one who had not been scared to marry me so quickly, who would write to me every week to share his dream of a future by my side in a world at peace.

Sadly, the years of fighting and witnessing death had changed him, little by little. His hopefulness, his joy and his insouciance had gradually been replaced with fear, guilt and self-hatred. It was now my turn to help him, heal him and show him the Andrew he once was had not completely disappeared; and looking at him during our day together, I was now sure we were heading in the right direction.

I played with his free hand, intertwining my fingers with his, while his other hand was lost in my hair.

"You've got such big hands," I observed as I pressed my palm against his as a comparison.

"You're the one with small hands," he replied without even moving, still lying on his back, allowing me to enjoy the comfort of his body a bit longer.

"I'm not saying this as a criticism. You've got beautiful hands," I clarified.

"If you say so," he chuckled.

I turned on my side to look at him, bringing my hands between my cheek and his chest, feeling his every breath. I could not get tired of admiring him. I was conscious of my luck to still have him by my side when a few months before, I thought I had lost him forever.

"How's Tomas doing?" he asked with all his seriousness.

"He's good!" I smiled, moved that he had brought up the name of our son on his own. "He asks for you when he wants his bedtime story. I think he misses you."

"Soon," he replied thoughtfully, as his hand caressed my hair. "Is he with your father today?"

"No, he had to work," I denied.

"My mother?" he asked again.

"No," I told the truth, but hoped he would stop there.

"Then who's looking after him?"

"James."

"For real?" he was not expecting to hear his name. He immediately withdrew his hand from my hair and raised himself on his elbows, forcing me to leave his side and sit up. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I trust him."

I did not want to make it a big deal and hoped he would not start a dispute.

"But I told you I don't want him to have anything to do with our son!"

"He's his godfather Andrew! And it won't change. He's amazing to him."

"Doesn't erase what he has done..." he grumbled.

"He's done nothing wrong. You need to—"

"Honestly Freya, I really don't want to talk about him right now," he snapped and avoided my eyes, frowning in discontent.

I was hoping that maybe he had thought about it all and decided to forgive James, but he still refused to talk about him.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked with an innocent voice.

"No," he gruffed.

"Don't be mad baby," I implored him.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"Then why are you frowning like that if you're not mad?" I asked as I straddled him and traced his angry features from my fingertip, knowing it would annoy him.

"Stop using your charms on me!" he faked a complaint.

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't mad," I teased him.

"How could I be mad when you look so gorgeous all the time?" he finally gave up and smiled.

"I'm not!" I blushed at his compliment and covered his mouth with my hand to prevent him from telling more lies, but he removed it quite easily.

"Well, you're to me," he added before kissing each of my fingers while looking intensely at me, making me blush even more.

"You're a smooth talker, Collins," I loved to call him by his surname, as if he was still the pilot I had a secret crush on.

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Yes, you may be right. You make me feel beautiful, you goof!" I laughed.

With the mention of James already forgotten, he grabbed me by the waist and flipped me onto my back as he got the upper hand on me. He looked down at me in silence, his eyes scanning my face in detail, slowly moving from my eyes, to my nose and my lips, before he flopped next to me with a sigh of content.

"Maybe war was the price to pay for me to deserve having you in my life," he said out of the blue, his fingers brushing my arm as he seemed to drift away from me.

"You don't have to deserve me! I love you!" I refused to let him think that.

It was not a question of worth or merits. We were meant to be with one another, we knew it. Life had brought us together.

"I ... " he started but did not complete his sentence before he looked away.

"What? Tell me," I encouraged him to share his thoughts with me.

"I'm not a good person, love," he sighed.

"What do you mean? Of course you are a good person!"

"Not anymore..."

"That's not true!"

"I killed people, Freya!" he raised his voice, pain darkening his eyes. His tone, his obvious suffering, reduced me to silence.

"I'm not better than them. I've put families through what you've been through. I've killed men who were probably married, who had children and parents waiting for them at home. Like me!"

"You had no choice!"

"I shouldn't be alive. I don't deserve it more than the men I killed. Why them and not me?"

"Please don't say that!" I suffered to hear these words from his mouth.

"Why should you hate them for what they did and not hate me? I'm no better..."

"I don't hate the man who shot you down. I believe he was doing what he had to do to save his life, just like you were trying to do. You both had no choice..." I tried to explain.

"But why me? Why did I survive?"

"Because you got more luck than the others. And I'm glad you were lucky enough to come back to me and Tomas!"

"How am I supposed to hold my son when I know all the blood I have on my hands?" he looked at his palms before covering his face to avoid my eyes, as if he was ashamed of himself.

"You're not the one with blood on your hands," I said as I gently revealed his face to me. "Hitler is the one to blame. The men in power are to blame, not you. Your hands, they're kind, they're warm and innocent. I know to whom they belong, and they aren't the hands of a murderer. They're the hands of a soldier who swore to defend his country. Of a man who did his best to come back to his family."

He was fighting to hold back the tears that had formed in his eyes. He wanted to believe my words, but he was scared to do so. He still thought he was not entitled to be happy.

"You've got to forgive yourself," I told him as I caressed his cheek. "I know it will be a long journey, but you can take all the time you need. I'll never leave your side."

Seeking comfort in something other than my words, he came to rest his head against my chest, hiding his face in the silky fabric of my dress. I was glad he was finally opening up to me, but I could not bear the extent of his torment. All I could do was to listen to him and hold him tight, show him that I loved him, hoping he would stop hating himself.

*****

I always felt a bit guilty when I visited James, because I was not respecting Andrew's wish, but I could not just erase James from my life, not after all he had done for me. He had always been a loyal friend, to me and Andrew; and of course, as a loyal friend, he had tried to discourage me to talk to him and wanted to convince me that my husband was right. I had refused to listen to him and eventually, he had given up. He loved Tommy way too much not to spend time with him whenever possible.

"I can't believe he's almost two already," I sighed as we both observed my son turning the pages of a book he was pretending to read.

"He's a little man now," James agreed. "They grow up so quickly."

"Don't even tell me about it!" I laughed, but my mother's heart ached to see that my little baby was not a baby anymore.

James went to sit next to him and ruffled his hair.

"What are you reading big boy?" he asked him.

"Trains," Tomas said enthusiastically as he pointed to an illustration of a black locomotive printed on the paper.

"You love trains?"

"Yes!"

"More than planes?"

"Yes!" he replied, triggering a laugh from both of us.

"Do you want me to read the book for you?" James offered as he extended his hand for Tomas to give him the book.

"No," Tomas shook his head.

"Why?"

"Daddy reads story to Tommy," he said in his own childish language and stood his ground, refusing to share his book.

"All right," James gave up and stood up to join me. "How is he doing by the way?" he asked me.

"Better. He said in his last letter that he couldn't wait to come back home, that he felt that the weight on his shoulders was now lighter."

"That's good. I'm glad he listened to you," he smiled.

"Listened to me? He listened to you!"

"Of course, he listened to his best friend who betrayed him," he laughed.

"C'mon! You know you didn't betray him," I raised my eyes to the sky.

"That's the word he used."

"But you know he didn't mean it!"

"I don't know Frey'. All I know is that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore, and that once he's back next week, I won't be able to talk to you either."

"No, we'll still see each other! Don't be silly!"

"And what? Ruin your marriage?"

"He'll change his mind. Give him some time," I tried to reason with him.

"I'll give him all the time he needs. I'm leaving," he dropped the news as if it was nothing, but to me, it felt like a slap in the face.

"You what?" I asked in shock.

"I wanted to tell you before. I've been assigned a new post in Egypt."

"In Egypt?" I gave a scornful laugh.

"Yes."

"They couldn't give you something closer? Like Ireland?"

"They don't need me in Ireland."

"But I need you here!" I exclaimed.

"You don't. Not anymore," he gave me a faint smile.

"When are you leaving?"

"Next Wednesday. Before Andrew comes back, so you guys won't have to worry about me."

"It's in five days!"

"I know. It's a bit short noticed," he snorted.

"And for how long?"

"I don't know. A year. Two. Maybe more."

He did not seem to be affected by this decision and it hurt me.

"Maybe more?" I started crying even if I had tried not to. I realised I would lose him and I did not have a say in the matter.

"Frey', it's going to be fine. You'll be fine!" he stroked my cheek, trying to comfort me.

"But I won't see you anymore!" I protested, leaving his touch.

"You'll have Andy! He'll look after you. You'll get your husband back."

"And what about my best friend? What about my son's godfather?"

"You know I can't stay. If I stay, I'll always get between you and Andrew, even if I do my best not to. I need to give Andy the peace of mind he needs to get better. It has to be just the two of you, and your son, as a family. It's your family, your life, and I think it's about time I start living my own life too," he tried to explain.

"But you don't have to leave..."

"I do. I'm making that decision so you don't start thinking you have to choose between the love of your husband and my friendship. Because you know you would have to make that choice in the end, and there is no need for that. I can't stay and put you in that position. It's him Frey', the one you love and need in your life. Not me."

He was right. I could not have both of them in my life and I would have to accept it, but I was not ready yet, and I hated the turn my visit had taken.

"Why do I always have to say goodbye?" I cried as I welcomed his warm embrace, knowing it was probably the last time I would see him.

*****

I was back at the same train station where I had said goodbye to James a few days before. Luckily this time, I was there to welcome someone back into my life, and not look at them leave me. Yet, I hoped it would be the last time I would have to step into that building.

"Look! It's Daddy's train!" I told Tomas, pointing at the locomotive entering the station to stop by the platform, squeezing his little chubby hand to get his attention.

I could not stand still, too excited to reunite with my husband, looking all around me, scanning the passengers who had started to get out of the train, searching for the only man I wanted to see. He saw me first though, and I discovered him when he called my name, making his way through the mass of people standing between us.

"Hi love!" he greeted me as he reached me before he met my lips with a longed-for kiss.

"Hi laddie!" he crouched down to caress his son's cheek. "Did you miss me?" he asked him, but Tommy, a bit impressed, looked away and hid behind my legs.

"I guess not," Andrew snorted.

"He's tired," I explained. "It's supposed to be nap time."

"You good?" he stood up and changed the subject.

"We're fine," I asked. "How was the journey?"

"Alright, I guess. It's a quick one," he smiled warmly at me. "Should we head home?"

I nodded and lifted Tomas in my arms, finally feeling like a true family. As we exited the station, he wrapped one arm around my waist as he hailed a taxi, as a reminder that he was there now.

"I'm glad to have you back," I let him know.

"Back for good," he said softly as he tightened his embrace.

*****

Freya and I had been married for almost five years, but we had only lived together for about a few weeks here and there before I got captured. Being back for good meant I would finally spend more than a few days in a row in that flat. I was back for an indefinite period of time, forever I hoped, and I, for once, felt truly at home. No more staring at the clock at night, counting down the hours I had left with my wife before I had to leave again. All the hours ahead of me, I would spend them with my family. It was like a new chapter of my life, one I was excited to enter, and even though it was frightening, I was ready to wake up every day at her side, and see our son grow up month after month. It was the life I had always wanted since I had met her.

I would have to get used to this new life, its new responsibilities and priorities, like planning everything around one little human being. It was bath time, and Freya, as the perfect mother she was, had already taken things in hand and brought Tomas to the bathroom. Everything she did for him, she always did it happily, and for that she was slightly intimidating. She was so dedicated I sometimes felt I would prove to be useless if I tried to do something to help her, because she had developed her own way of doing things; but I wanted to be involved in those little acts of love. I wanted us to form an inseparable trio.

She was placing him in the bath filled with warm water when I entered the room, and I could see on his face that he was not really keen on the idea.

"Is everything alright?" she turned to me, her hands firmly holding Tomas to be sure he would not slip while her eyes were not on him.

"I just wanted to be with you," I admitted, and given the smile that enlightened her face, she was glad to hear me say it.

"Do you want to do it?" she invited me to replace her.

I hesitated to accept. I wanted to do it, but I was afraid I would do something wrong.

"I've never done that before."

"It's easy, you'll see. Come!" she insisted.

I gladly obeyed and joined her, sitting at her side, next to the bathtub.

"He likes to play in water," she said. "But if he starts crying when you wash him, it's not because of you, it's because he hates that part. Don't you, mister stinky?" she made a funny face to Tommy before she released him and moved aside to let me stand in her place.

I soaked the sponge Freya had prepared and brought it to the top of his head to gently wet his hair. He pulled a face at first, but eventually started smiling, erasing all my fears.

"You like that?" I asked him as I ran the sponge on his back. Him splashing water at me with his little hands was enough of a confirmation.

"Of course, you do!" I talked to him and attacked his round belly with my fingers, tickling him and making his giggles echo in the room. He had won me over. I could not believe he was my child, the flesh of my flesh, and yet, there I was, giving him his bath for the first time, learning to do it for every day in the future.

I soaped him carefully, making sure none of the product would get in his eyes, gently rubbing his perfectly smooth skin. I was not hurting him. These hands could be kind, they could do good. The blood they had shed was not tinting the water red. Tomas did not have to know; in his eyes, I was innocent.

"You're doing perfect! You don't need my help anymore," Freya declared as she got up, ready to leave the room.

"Please stay," I wrapped my wet hand around her wrist as she walked away. "I want to be with my family."

She did not say a word when she turned around and kneeled at my side. She only smiled with me and observed me silently as I took care of our son. When her fingers grazed the back of my neck, I felt like I was finally where I was meant to be. I gladly welcomed the simple moments of the everyday life with my family and realised how I had missed all of it. Those things were the most important, and I would cherish them. Because of that, I could say I was happy, and I hoped that the way Freya laughed with Tommy meant she was too.

*****

I was brushing my hair when he entered our bedroom. I did not hear him, but I saw his reflection in the mirror. He leant his shoulder against the door frame and stared at me, wearing only his tank top and a pair of trousers. He had been complaining about the hot temperatures the whole day. It was true the air was suffocating, mostly because of the humidity brought by a storm the night before. He did not like hot weather; he repeated he was not made for this, and so he had stripped off every unnecessary piece of clothing, and I was not the one to complain.

"Is he asleep?" I engaged the conversation.

"Fast asleep," he smiled, his eyes not leaving me. "Is it my shirt?" he referred to my outfit for the night.

"No, it's mine now," I joked as our eyes met through the mirror. He did not argue, he seemed to like that look on me. The summer night was settling down and the softened light filling the room made his presence all the more comforting.

I put my hairbrush aside and ran my fingers through my hair before turning to him.

"Thank you for taking care of him tonight."

"No worries. He's a joy to be around," he admitted. "You raised him well."

I wanted to tell him I had done my best because I wanted him to be proud of me, that I had given my son all the love I could, for fear he would lack the presence of his father; but I only smiled. I kept those words to myself. He was back now, there was no need to talk about those things anymore.

He moved to sit at the edge of the bed and looked at his feet, withdrawing in his silence, once again. I knew he had something to ask, and I was waiting for him to utter his question.

"Can I sleep in our bed tonight?" he eventually said, fiddling with the bed sheets.

"Of course! You don't even have to ask. I want you by my side," I got up and joined him.

As I sat beside him, I laid a hand on his arm that I wanted consoling. He was obviously still struggling with his demons, thinking he was a fraud, and I had no idea how to convince him that he was wrong.

"Aren't you scared of me?"

"No."

"I don't know what I'm capable of..."

"You won't hurt me," I reassured him. "Remember, I swore to love you for better and for worse, and I meant it. I'm your wife; I vowed to stay by your side no matter what, and I would not hesitate to repeat my wows today if I had to," I placed my hand on his cheek to make him look at me.

"Alright?" I asked as I pressed my forehead against his, looking directly in his sad blue eyes. He nodded and did not move away. Instead, his eyes regained the boldness they had always conveyed as he kept looking at me. He wanted to kiss me and I wanted him to kiss me. I was just waiting for him to do so. Our faces were so close I could feel his warm breathing caress my skin. His nose brushed mine, as an invitation, and the tension increased with his lips hovering over my mouth, making me so eager, so needy. When he eventually kissed me, voluptuously, I had to contain my overwhelming desire and not jump on him. I actually loved his hands in my hair and on my body. I could never have enough of his touch.

We lost ourselves in the kiss and gradually moved further onto the bed, so he found himself on top of me, gazing at me the same way he had done when we had physically discovered each other for the first time. I had wished for this moment to happen for so long, waiting for him to fully come back to me. This level of intimacy, this proximity, our bodies stuck together, it was all we needed, all I wanted. And I felt lost when he left my touch to sit up and take off his top, messing up his hair as he passed it over his head. He winced in pain when his injured shoulder refused to cooperate, but he ignored it, he would not let it get in the way.

He was not hiding anymore, but laying himself bare in front of me. He knew he could be himself in my presence. I was impressed by his athletic build, the weight he had regained in just one month. Despite his long time away, the hardships he had overcome, he still looked very strong. Years later, he still had the same effect on me as the first time I had landed my eyes on his body. I did not feel threatened by him, I felt safer in his presence than I had ever been.

I sat up to face him and brought my fingers to his scar that was now completely revealed to me, and I traced it lightly with my fingertips, following the dark-pink tissue that would always be testament of what he had endured. However, he did not want me to think about it and feel sad for him and so, he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss my palm. And without giving me time to process what was happening, I was lying on my back again, Andrew looking down on me, his arms framing my face.

It felt crazy how, with him looking at me with such intensity, the whole world around us disappeared. All I could hear was the sound of his kisses in my neck, all I could feel was his warm hands exploring my body and undressing me, all I could think was how good he made me feel. All I wanted was him.

He did not have to ask me anything, my body was attracted to him like the moon to the earth. I felt like an addict in need of her shot, and so, when his lips came back to mine, I lifted my hips to meet his body and get closer, inviting him to grab my thigh and dig his fingers in my flesh.

I gave in to his touch. I was melting against his skin, and I clung to the bed sheets to try not to lose control. When his hand followed my arm to intertwine his fingers with mine and bring it above my head, I felt like I was about to lose it. I was subject to my desire, he could do whatever he wanted to me, I would want it to.

He was my world. He was back to me, entirely, and we made one again, him and I, together for the rest of our lives.


	37. Beating the odds

I had woken up to an empty house on that Christmas Eve, and everything was terribly silent. I preferred when the voices of my husband and my son were feeling the room, but they were gone. I had found no one when I had opened my eyes after a long night of sleep that I much needed, as I was always tired so easily. Surprisingly enough, it was the loud silence that had woken me up, because I did not like being alone. I should take advantage of that time to rest and relax, but all I did was waiting for them to come home. I would get ready, read a book, while waiting for my boys to come back from their morning adventure, or I would stand by the window, observing what was happening outside.

The sky was grey and low, the light softened by the thick layer of clouds and the wind was blowing, whistling through the cracks of the window, cold entering the house, making the room a bit chilly. I would have to ask Andrew to start a fire when he was back.

I did not have to wait too long for I rapidly heard giggles coming from outside. I followed the familiar sound to see them running up the path leading to our cottage, Andrew encouraging Tomas to be quick as a mix of rain and snow was falling from the sky.

"Go, go, go! You're going to beat me!" he had turned this into a competition, always knowing what to do to make things entertaining for his son.

They disappeared from my sight when they reached the front of the house, and I heard the heavy door close behind them as they got in, sighing with delight when they felt the warmth of the house.

"Take off your shoes," Andrew warned our son. "And go to your room to change. If your mother sees that I took you out in the rain, she won't be happy!"

I heard the thump of shoes being dropped to the floor and quick footsteps climbing the stairs, followed by heavier, slower ones.

"Tommy, quiet. Don't wake her up," he whispered as he thought I was still sleeping.

I left our bedroom as I listened to them laughing and messing around, and I stopped at the edge of the door to observe them, taking advantage of the fact that they had not noticed me yet. One had stripped from his clothes and was sitting on his bed while the other rummaged through the chest of drawers to find a clean outfit. They formed the perfect pair, and I could not ask for a more loving father for my son than Andrew.

"Arms up," he told Tommy who obliged and let his dad help him pull a dry jumper over his head.

"Why is Mummy sleeping all the time?" he asked his father, his mouth partly covered with the collar of his top.

"Because she's tired. She needs to rest," he answered, now trying to cover Tommy's feet and have him remain stock still, unsuccessfully.

"Is she going to die?"

"What?" Andrew stopped in his track, Tommy's sock only half put on his foot. "No! She's not going to die!" he snorted at the bluntness of our son and resumed his task.

"I don't want her to die."

"Your ma is fine, you don't have to worry about that."

"Can I go see her?" he asked as he looked my way.

"No laddie, she's sleeping, remember?"

"But no, she's there!" he pointed in my direction, causing Andrew to turn to me in surprise.

"Hi boys," I gave them a warm smile.

As soon as his father was done with him, Tomas jumped down his bed and ran to me to wrap his little arms around my legs, melting my heart as usual.

"Pick me up Mummy!" he begged for my affection.

"I can't Tom, I'm sorry," I caressed his hair so he would forgive me, even if it broke my heart to have to deny him that.

"Why don't you go play downstairs and Mummy and Daddy will join you very soon?" Andrew offered. It did not take much time for Tomas to accept, and he was already hurtling down the stairs.

"Careful Tommy!" his father felt the need to call him to order as he approached me. He made sure his son had reached the ground floor in one piece before turning his whole attention to me.

"Hi there," he kissed me with all his love, as if he had not seen me for days. His fresh nose colliding with mine gave me an idea of the cold temperatures outside, and his wet hair brushing my forehead were a proof that he had once again left without covering himself up properly.

"How are my loves doing today?" he asked as he spread his hand across my newly visible baby bump.

"Good," I let him know.

"No unusual pain?" he insisted as he invited me to follow him downstairs, making sure to stand before me in case I fell.

"No unusual pain," I reassured him.

He was so protective of me all the time, even more since I had discovered I was pregnant. I loved it because I had missed it the first time, so there was no way I would not take it all this time. His protection, his mindfulness and his help just reminded me how lucky I was to have him in my life. He had been so happy when I had told him the good news, he had cried. He would deny it if I tried to share that piece of information with someone else, but he had not hidden his emotions to me, he had stayed true. But worry had quickly prevailed as he had recalled my last pregnancy had been far from ideal. However, I could feel it was different this time because I was aware from the very beginning and I was more than careful, for the baby and for me. I had him by my side now, so I had nothing to worry about, and little by little, I had managed to convince him that he had nothing to worry about either.

"You were sleeping so peacefully this morning, I didn't dare to wake you up," he let me know as he helped me down the last pair of stairs and headed to the kitchen.

"I think I did, but then I could feel you were gone. Where did you go?" I asked as I stopped in the corridor to check on Tomas who was playing in the other room.

"We went to the bakery to get some bread for tonight, and eggs for breakfast and the biscuits you want to bake."

"You came home just in time," I observed as I looked at the snow now falling heavily outside. The landscape had already turned white, covered with a thin layer of powder, and my heart filled with joy, as it used to do when I was a child.

"I guess we're stuck inside," he said.

Everything had turned quiet, every sound absorbed by the snowflakes pilling up on the ground. I could not be happier at the prospect of spending my whole day only with the most important people in my life, cut off from the rest of the world. There was no better way to prepare for Christmas.

Andrew, who had quickly lost interest in what was happening outside, placed the kettle on the fire before he turned to me.

"Guess who I met in town?" he asked, an intriguing smile on his face.

"I don't know."

"Victoria," he told me, flatly.

"Oh..." I let out, clearly expressing no excitement at the mention of her name. "What crap did she say again?"

"Nothing really. She told me she was glad to see me, blah blah, but you should have seen her face when I said that you were pregnant with our second child," he laughed.

"Well, I can imagine."

"She asked me to give you her best wishes though," he added.

"Did she?"

"Yes. She seemed sincere," he shrugged.

"Okay," I was not convinced.

"She also told me she was alone for Christmas, so I invited her to spend it with us," he dropped the news casually, looking away, perfectly knowing what would come next.

"Oh no, you didn't!" I took offence.

"Love, we've to be nice to people, and she looked so sad. I couldn't leave her alone!" he defended his decision.

"Oh yes you could, and you should have! She hates me!"

"She's changed. She's not that bad," he remained calm while I felt my blood boil.

"She's bad! She's a bitch!" I let out, not caring if Tomas could hear me, causing Andrew to laugh.

"Babe, if you wanted me to make peace with James, why shouldn't you make things better with her?"

"Because it's different! She's never been my best friend."

"Maybe you'll become best friends."

"No."

"It's just one day."

"It's too much!"

"Please, do it for me..." he looked at me with puppy eyes.

"Oh, you're going to put that pregnancy at risk with your stupid ideas, Collins!" I got up, upset and determined to make him feel riddled with guilt.

"Oh love, don't be so dramatic," he tried to change my mind.

"Trust me, I'm not!"

"I'm kidding! She's not invited," he confessed and approached me to try to kiss me before I could leave the room.

"You're so stupid with your stupid jokes!" I hit his shoulder, relieved to know that it was just a prank, but a bit hurt to notice it had worked so well.

"I'd never do anything like that to you, but the look on your face was so funny," he kept laughing, taking me in his arms.

"You're a monster!" I pushed him back, not willing to let him get away with this.

"But you love me," he locked his arm around my waist, holding me so close, looking at me with sparkles in his eyes, him, who had never lost his youthful ardour, making me feel like I sometimes had two children at home.

"I'm not so sure anymore..." I teased him.

"Ouch! My heart!" he feigned to be hurt. "Love, don't do that to me."

"You're a big child Collins," I rolled my eyes in amusement. I allowed myself to laugh with him and let him kiss my cheek, before we got interrupted by the kettle whistling, calling us back to the present moment.

I sat back and observed him pour the boiling water in the tea pot, losing myself in the contemplation of his strong hands, his firm arms now devoted to the simplest things, my sanctuary. My home.

He could make the worst jokes sometimes, but I would never replace him. Never. I loved him just the same when he made fun of me or praised me, when he was joyous or going through a hard day, when he talked too much or would not say a word. I loved him for who he was. For what he brought to my life.

My heart was bursting with love at the most ordinary things, like him handing me a warm cup of tea and kissing the top of my head; and I felt so infatuated with him, so stupid sometimes to be sad when he was not by my side, but it was the way he made me feel. It was how important he was to me.

"Oh," he remembered something as he leant back against the kitchen cupboard, holding his mug in his hands, just under his face, to feel the warm steam on his skin. "James called earlier. He said he would arrive at the end of the afternoon."

"Good. I'm glad he can make it in the end."

"Me too. It's been too long since the last time we saw him..." he admitted and looked down at his mug of tea, as if ashamed to say he had missed his best friend. Time had helped him heal and think about the whole situation. He had felt bad and sad without him in his life, his wingmate, his brother. He didn't know how to sort it out, but thanks to James, who had decided he would not let their friendship end that way, and who had sent letters to my husband to clear the air, it had happened. Things had got better, so much that this year, Andrew had invited him over for Christmas. As it should have always been.

"He asked me if it was okay if he came with someone. I said yes. I hope you don't mind."

"As long as it's not Victoria," I joked and carefully took a sip of my hot drink. "Is that someone a girlfriend?"

"I guess so," he smiled.

"Oh my God!" I almost spilt my tea with excitement.

"I knew you would react like that," he laughed.

"I need to prepare their bedroom," I put my mug aside and got up, a bit too quickly.

"No," he caught me before I could reach the door. "I'll do it. You go play with Tom and I'll join you once I'm done, and we'll finish decorating that Christmas tree. Cause so far, there's nothing Christmassy about it."

"Maybe because you were always working lately and don't want me to do anything in this house..." I groused.

"I know, but I'm here now and I'm not the one who's pregnant, so..."

"All right," I did not try to argue.

"I can do it," he reassured me, knowing I hated not being in control.

He clasped his hands on my shoulders and led me to the living room, making sure I would listen to him.

"Use the nice bedsheets. You know, the ones your mother gave us."

"Yes."

"With the embroideries."

"I know," he smiled.

"And add an extra blanket!"

"I will," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


What better time than Christmas to spend time with the ones you love. It had always been a tradition in my family, as far as I could remember, to decorate the house together. Even with me becoming older, with my interests changing, I had never missed one opportunity to spend that period of the year with my sisters and my parents, unboxing the decorations as well as memories. I had never missed one Christmas, until I had to go to war.

I had my own family now, and I could share that tradition with my son. Lifted on my shoulder, he was trying to fix a golden star at the top of the tree, to add the final note to our masterpiece. When he raised his arms in the air to show he had succeeded, his mother cheered to congratulate him, and I stepped back to look at the work we had done together. Everything looked perfect. Everything was finally perfect.

I put Tomas down and gazed at Freya, who, with a sweet smile on her face and her hand caressing her belly, seemed lost in her thoughts as she was looking at Tomas who was already scampering back to his toys. I had never thought I could feel such strong love for someone one day. I admired her, her strength and her tenderness. Being lucky enough to see her embrace motherhood so gracefully was an adventure I had dreamed of and thought I would never experience. Yet, she was there, standing before me, a new life growing inside of her, and I still had trouble believing it. Seeing her bump grow bigger and bigger was something magical, and feeling the baby move inside of her was surreal.

I had been out of the picture for Tomas, but I would be there for this baby. I would do my very best to keep my wife and my child safe. We finally led the life we had talked so much about during the war, even though nothing was as perfect, as easy as we had imagined it would be. But she did not seem scared, so why should I be? I refused to let those negative thoughts spoil our special day, and I focused my attention back on Freya. She was humming the jazz tune being played on the radio as she admired our tree, visibly satisfied with the result. I stepped behind her and wrapped her in my arms before I placed a kiss on her cheek. She giggled and relaxed in my arms, resting her hands around my wrists, showing me she did not want me to leave her too soon.

"We did a good job, what do you think?" I asked her.

"You did. I did more watching than decorating," she joked.

"Well, you were directing. I call that proper team work."

She chuckled. "We're a great team."

"An amazing team," I agreed.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


The wind was blowing strong, sending icy snowflakes in my face, as dozens of tiny creatures biting on my skin. Trying to resist the assault, I hid behind my scarf and picked up the logs I had planned to bring back inside to throw into the fire. The gentle snowfall had slowly turned into a storm and I wished I had completed that task earlier as my feet sank in the layer of snow that had already reached ankle-deep. The house stood out in the darkness falling around us, and the warm light filtering through the windows encouraged me to hurry my pace and find shelter behind these walls.

As I stepped inside, I was met with the sweet smell of freshly baked biscuits, and I immediately dropped my load and get rid of my wet clothes to follow that aroma, knowing I would find her there. She was taking a tray covered with small gingerbread men out of the oven when I finally laid eyes on her. The kitchen had turned into a bit of a mess and I could tell she had outdone herself again as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and smiled at me.

I grabbed one of the biscuits she had already placed in a tin box next to her and avidly stuffed it in my mouth. They were my favourite things about Christmas.

"No!" she scolded me. "You've to wait!"

"But I need to check if they're good!" I found an excuse that I knew her good heart would not try to question.

"Are they?" she sincerely worried.

"Um... I don't know. Let me taste another one," I went a second time into the box and took a bite of a cookie before she could stop me.

"Don't eat everything! Keep some for tonight!"

"But it's hard! They're delicious!"

"I'm glad they are," she prided herself on her cooking skills. "But I made them for our guests, not you."

"What? You didn't make them for your husband?" I feigned to be hurt, and ate the rest of the biscuit.

"My husband has already eaten two full boxes of them this month, I think he's had enough."

"It's never enough," I said, my mouth full, triggering a laugh from her.

I could tell she was stressed for tonight, when really, there was nothing to worry about; but she wanted everything to be perfect. It was the way she was. If only she would let go for once. She had already done a great job.

"Let me clean the kitchen while you go freshen up, okay?" I told her as I grabbed her by the waist to draw her in my arms and kiss the top of her head, observing all the luscious meals she had prepared for the night.

"Always doing the dirty work," she quipped.

"Only for you."

"Thank you," she laid a gentle hand on my jaw. "Did I tell you how much I love you?"

"I think you did today, yes," I snorted, amused by her candidness.

"Well, I still love you," she told me nonetheless and kissed me. I did not have to tell it back for her to know I shared the same feelings. And while we proved them to one another, all we could hear was the sound of a festive song coming from the other room, played on the radio.

I moved my hands to the small of her back to press her against me, feeling how her body had changed during the past months, leaving me speechless every time, as if I was part of a dream.

I lost myself in her eyes, thinking how nobody had ever looked at me the way she did. That was the way she had made me fall in love with her. The first time I had met her eyes, in that crowded corridor, or every time she had gazed at me, in the middle of a flower field, on a train platform, behind her veil or simply lying next to me, scared or relieved, sorry, worried or happy; there was always a sparkle of love in her eyes. "I can't wait for this new year to come," I voiced my thoughts so she could hear them.

"And the baby," she added.

"And the baby," I smiled.

I hoped it would be a girl, I had always wanted a girl. Maybe because I had grown up with two sisters. Yet, I said nothing, because whatever this baby would prove to be, I would love it with my whole heart. I knew it.

Driven by the music playing in the background and my cheery mood, I moved my body slowly, in rhythm with the song, Freya following along. She had rested her head on my shoulder, holding me close, and it was the kind of sweet moment I never wanted to end. It was as if we were still the same as when we had met. I reckoned I had done things wrong with her. I had not given her the life she deserved from the beginning. Our love story had started at the wrong time, and I had not been able to court her, to give her the little things lovers usually shared, like take her to the dance, walk her home at night, send her beautiful flowers when I could not see her. I had been sent away from her too soon, and I had failed to protect her from the cruelty of the world. Sometimes, I wished it would be just the two of us again, so I could fix all of that, so we could take our time, enjoy being together before we had to become real adults with responsibilities. But I could not go back in time, thus, I would do all I could to make her happy in that life, and even if my demons sometimes came back in full force, I knew how to spare her. I could deal with that side of me and give her more joy than worry. In truth, she was the giver in that relationship. She gave me love, trust and hope. She was giving me a family.

Yes, the year to come would be full of promises. One more year taking me away from this awful war I had fought; one more year of me sharing my life with her, the one. I had never thought when seeing her for the first time, that my life would become what it was. If one had told me that I would be dancing with her today, in our kitchen, in our own house in Scotland, I would have laughed. I had felt she was the one for me, but I had never thought she would become mine. I had been prepared to lose her, to have to let her go because of the war. I had been convinced my uniform was incompatible with meeting someone and building a relationship. And yet, life had proved me wrong because I had married her, the war was behind us, and to make it even more surreal, we were waiting to welcome our second child. Yes, my life was completely different from what is was years before, but it was for the best. It was to be with her.

"I registered this morning," I said after a while, trying to sound tranquil.

"Registered for what?" she left my embrace to look at me.

"The teacher training we were talking about, you know?"

"Oh, so you're really leaving the RAF?" she was surprised to hear that the idea I had mentioned once or twice had in fact been deeply considered.

"Yes. I... You know I love being an instructor, but even though I love flying, it's teaching I really want to keep doing."

"But flying is who you are!" she worried, as she should have.

"Who I was," I corrected her.

I smiled to convince her I had made the right decision. I could tell she was seized by all the questions I had also asked myself, but I had turned things over in my head, and I had come to the conclusion that it was now time to do something else.

"It's really what you want?" she frowned, looking at me as if she was trying to read me.

"Yes."

"Then, it's what I want too," her features softened as she gave me her blessing.

"It's a new chapter of my life," I explained, brushing her cheek from my fingertips. "I need to leave war behind me and focus on more positive things. I know now that I'm good at something else than flying, and I love it! It's true, Freya! I feel like I was made for this!"

She cupped my face in her hands and looked at me in silence as her eyes filled with tears, but before I could worry, she uttered the words I wanted to hear from her.

"I'm so proud of you. You'll be an amazing teacher."

I had made up my mind a while ago, but having her support was essential to me. Life was too precious to me not to spend as much time as possible with the people I loved. I wanted to be with her, and with Tomas, to be by her side the day the baby would come, because these moments with them could not be replaced. Flying, I could do it later. I could teach Tomas when he grew older, but that, I had not told her yet.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


I was almost done with the washing when I heard a knock on the door a bit earlier than expected.

"Shit," I let out as I abandoned the dirty dishes in the sink to look for something to use to dry my wet hands. I hated when I could not finish what I had started, but I thought my guests would not hold it against me.

I scanned the kitchen and finally found a towel that I quickly grabbed before I hurried to the lobby, only to find Freya had been quicker than me. She smiled at me when she saw me, her plumped lips painted with a bright red lipstick, clashing with the dark-green velvet of her dress. I did not have to say a word for her to know I found her ravishing, and her cheekbones turned rosy as she looked away and opened the door to reveal James on the doorstep, a dark-haired woman at his arm. Before they could say something, a cold gush of wind forced them to step in and close the door behind them.

"It's freezing cold in your country! We're not used to that anymore," he exclaimed as he handed a bottle of what seemed to be champagne to Freya. I stood aside and observed him hug my wife very warmly, kissing her cheek on the way.

"Winter in Scotland would not be a proper winter without snow. You should have brought some sun from Egypt instead of complaining," she teased him.

These two had remained close despite the distance, but I was not jealous anymore. I knew she loved me as much as I loved her.

When he left her embrace and finally laid his eyes on me, my heart rejoiced in his presence, and I could not hide it as a huge smile formed on my face.

"Fortis 2!" he exclaimed as he saluted me.

"Fortis 1," I responded, adopting the military attitude that I would usually leave at the door of my house.

His solemnness gave way to a genuine laugh as he walked quickly in my direction. I let him take me in his arms, responding to his fondness, glad to notice that our relationship was back to what it used to be.

"It's good to see you, brother," he said before ruffling my hair jokingly, as he would always do when we were together in Duxford.

"Don't be a dick, and introduce your woman," I reminded him that he had not come alone.

"I was going to!" he defended himself as he joined her side.

"Let me present you Annabel," he said as he wrapped his arm around her. "My wife."

He looked at her as if the mention of the word was as new to him as it was to us.

"You guys are married?" Freya could not believe it.

"Yup. Happened like, two months ago," he seemed very happy to finally share this part of his life with us.

"How typical of you to marry without telling anyone," I chaffed him.

"I knew I was going to see you, so there was no need to send an invitation. You wouldn't have been able to come all the way to Egypt anyway," he rightly said.

"Maybe you could just move back here, in anticipation of future events. Anyway, congratulations! Especially to you Annabel, for convincing that bloke to enjoy the delights of marriage," I joked.

"Oh, you know, I didn't have to say anything. He was the one to bring the idea," she said to our great surprise.

"Wow. I've always thought there was a heart under this hard shell, but I was not expecting to find a proof one day."

"I learnt from you," he winked at me, and I felt he was not entirely joking this time.

"See, darling, now you've finally met Andy, and his lovely wife who has to put up with his great sense of humour, and-"he suddenly looked around, a bit lost. "Where is the little man?"

Of course, Tomas was the only one missing, and James had not forgotten about him.

"He's playing in the living room. Come, he'll be happy to see you," I invited him and the rest of the attendance to move there.

"Here he is! The man of the house!" James exclaimed when he discovered his godson. He had clearly missed him, and I sometimes wished he would be a bigger part of my son's life, if only he was not living so far. Tomas had not seen him in a long time, and the irruption of this broad man with a strong voice in his house startled him a bit. He looked at him as if he was a stranger and clung to my legs, fearing he would take him away.

"C'mon, go say hi to uncle James," I encouraged him, caressing his blond hair to give him the reassurance he was looking for. "You know him, don't be scared. He's the one who gave you your favourite toys, you know, the wooden animals."

James crouched down and patiently waited for Tommy to show up from behind me and walk shyly towards him. Taking James by surprise, he hugged him, and for a brief moment, his godfather showed a vulnerability not many had seen before. I perfectly knew the feeling that must have overcome him. I knew how a simple act of kindness from our Tommy could make even the toughest man crumble, even more because of the special place he held in everyone's heart.

"Look at you, big man!" James regained his composure and observed Tomas from head to toe. "You're almost as tall as me!"

"Well," I scoffed. "It's not hard..."

"Oh, so we're still joking about that?" he raised his eyebrow, but ended up laughing with the rest of us.

He had changed, physically. He was tanned, grey hair had appeared here and there, but I had never seen him smile that much. I had noticed something different about him, a different light in his eyes. He was luminous, happy, and it was obvious it was because of the woman who was sharing his life.

Tomas, who had turned out to be shy with years, had run back to me, and I lifted him in my arms, too happy to have my little boy with me. He was becoming heavier and taller with every day, maybe almost too tall for me to keep holding him that way, but I was not ready to give up on that yet.

"He's your exact same portrait," my best friend observed as he compared the two Collins he had in front of him.

"Oh God! Don't tell me about that!" Freya expressed. "I gave birth to a mini Andrew Collins. He's taken everything from his Dad."

It was true that when I looked at my son, I sometimes saw myself at the same age, and that feeling was only increased with my mother telling me she felt like she had gone twenty-five years back in time. Everybody agreed to say we were the same, except hopefully, he would not turn out to have the same destiny.

"He looks like me, but he's got his mother's strong character," I kept on joking around.

"If he gets his character from someone, it's you! You two are always together, especially now that I'm stuck at home," she kindly reminded me as she gently rubbed her belly, triggering a smile from me. Despite what she would say in front of our guests, she would not argue with me when I told her I could see a lot of her in our son, and she knew all I had to say were compliments.

"When is the baby due?" Annabel dared to ask, showing interest in my wife's condition.

"In about four months I believe. We're having a spring baby," Freya answered.

"I really thought Tommy would get a little brother or sister way before that," James commented.

"I thought too, but Andrew didn't want to..." she led the conversation to the topic I did not want to mention.

"It's not that I didn't want to have a baby!" I defended myself, slightly hurt by her wrong insinuation, even though she was not trying to be mean.

"It took me more than a year to manage to convince you!"

"Yes, and you know why. Because your health is my priority," I tried to avoid sounding resenting. We had the same conversation over and over again every time someone asked us why we had not tried before, and I hated it, because I was always seen as the uncompassionate husband who did not want his wife's happiness, when really, all I wanted was to protect her.

"But everything is going perfectly well so far, so she proved me wrong," I forced myself to sound hopeful and kept my worries to myself. She said she was feeling good, I had to trust her.

"Yes, it's completely different this time. I've never felt so at peace," she looked at me with apologising eyes that only I could interpret. I could not be mad at her, not when she proved me every day how strong she was.

"Well, before we all settle, maybe I should show you to where you're going to sleep so you can put your stuff there," Freya suggested as she turned to the new Mrs Farrier, who was still wearing her coat. "Would you follow me Annabel?"

As they exited the living room, I put Tomas down to let him run after his mother, and James and I stood silently side by side as we observed our wives behave as if they had always known one another.

"I don't think you should blame yourself for giving her what she wanted. It's normal that you worry about her, it proves how much you love her," James said after a while.

"I've never felt so thrilled and frightened at the same time," I laughed uncomfortably, ashamed that James had managed to read so easily through me.

"Even when fighting?"

"It was only my life I was risking, not hers."

James nodded, he seemed to understand.

"If you've taught me something, it's that if you follow your heart, you can beat the odds. And you're the living proof of that. If I know that what's important in life is to listen to what your heart tells you, it's because of you, and I know you did the right thing again this time," he told me for the first time as he placed a hand on my shoulder. Years before, I was the one looking up to him, but today, tables had turned, and to hear these words from him were of great comfort, for if he believed I had made no mistake, I could believe it too. The fact that I deserved happiness was probably true.  
  
  


_THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here, it probably means you read the 37 chapters of my story, so I just wanted to say thank you! It means a lot to me that you took the time to read what I've created. Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoyed this journey with Andrew and Freya as much as I loved writing it <3


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